A Moth to the Flame
by Donatarion De Loriat
Summary: Red has continued with her life after the encounter with the Wolf, thinking him dead. However, when he reappears and kidnaps her, she finds that he may not be as coldhearted and mindless as she first thought him... based off of : Little Red Riding Hood
1. Prologue

_She ran for her life. There was nothing more to say than that. She could hear the ragged breaths of her pursuer as he chased, as he gained. She fell, tripping over a cobblestone. The caps of her knees erupted into pain as dirt and stones scraped over it, but the pain was instantly replaced by the mind-numbing fear. She had done nothing, nothing but walk down the street. Why was there now some man after her, ragged breathing coming closer and closer? What had she done? Why?_

_The steps stopped pounding behind her; he was walking, coming closer slowly, savoring his victory. "My, my, my..." Rough hands clapped onto her shoulders as a hard weight slammed against the back of her head. She slumped, unconscious, and the person behind her chuckled softly as he dragged her away._


	2. Introductions

Hurrying down the street, Marie Landon glanced to her left and right, her tell-tale red cloak fluttering out behind her. Her brown hair, unevenly cut, fluttered by her ears and in front of her bright green eyes. With a soft sniffle, she lifted a pallid hand, brushed the hair from her eyes, and paused before hurrying forward. "Blue!"

Langdon Smolley -Little Boy Blue as his friends called him, or Blue to his close, close friends- turned, blinked, waved. "Red!" Under his arm, the usual grubby primer. Langdon came from a rather poor family, and had had only this one school book from the beginning of his learning. Because of this, he could read every word perfectly and quickly.

"Hey, I got that book that you asked for…" Reaching into her tote bag, Red withdrew the small, black-bound book entitled _The Works of Dreams_, held it up, and swung it back and forth with a small taunting smile flitting across her face.

"Ah! Yes! Thank you! How did you get Mr. Dumpty to give you it?"

"Silly! I paid!" Red held it out, inviting him to take it.

Blue grabbed it, hugged it to his chest alongside the grubby old primer. He smiled happily, "Wonderful! I'll return it as soon as possible, okay?"

"Keep it as long as you need to."

Blue bounced up and down in excitement, "Oh! Thank you! Thank you so-"

"Langdon Bradford Smolley!" came the shrill voice of his mother. Turning, Blue blanched when he saw his mother, red-faced and furious, "Come here right now! You said you would take care of your little brother!"

"…Yes, mom…" replied Blue solemnly, shooting an apologetic glance at Red. "Got to go, Red… Thanks again… See ya?"

"Sure. See ya." Red twiddled her fingers at him happily.

* * *

"Rapunzel Matista. Four days since she was missing… Found dead: today." Detective Pinocchio Daring stared down at the mutilated cadaver with painted wooden eyes before the thin, meticulously carved eyelids slid down to blink. Wood shavings splattered down to his ears before fading off to small, realistic side burns. "Throat slashed. Apparent lack of blood at the scene… Suggests Murder was committed somewhere else and that she was dumped here. Exactly like the others."

The first officer sniffed, "Who could do such a thing? I mean…This was deliberate. Drugged apparently, judging by the vomit on her, maybe some sexual assault, deduced from the absence of clothes -could be nothing though-, and… Killed with a single deep slash to the throat. Look at that… Whoever did this nearly decapitated her in the process, exactly as he did with Goldilocks and Snow White and-""You don't have to sound like you admire the guy." Snorted the wooden Detective.

"I don't… Just saying."

"Well then. Stop _saying_ and call in the crew. We can't be raising a panic about this serial killer. Don't let anyone know about this… Just say there's been a rape or something, make people wary enough to be careful, but not enough to panic and do something stupid…" Pinocchio turned away, paused, and then muttered, "And make sure that we keep the girls off the street. He seems to be after them."

"So, ages ten to twenty, should we say?"

"Should you say? Yes. Put up a curfew. And I want extra patrols by the men, understood?"

"Yes, sir!" The first officer saluted sharply.


	3. The First Encounter

For Red, the day passed quickly, without a qualm and amusing. She met up with Bo Peep, her close friend, and they went to the town center to ogle over the scarves and dresses. For Red, it was more for skirts and shoes, for her red cape would always be part of her repertoire. However, Bo Peep was all over the place, continuously melting with longing for each and every article of clothing.

After the excursion, Red went home with Bo Peep, where Bo Peep's mother cooked them a 'delightful' dinner of salmon and spinach, to which Red politely declined to the greens.

Now, it was night, the oil lamps burning as they cast flickering light-shadows across the night's darkness. Scurrying from patch of light to patch of light, Red pulled her red cloak closer around her, shivering in the cold night air. A mist had crept in, the wetness sending needles across her nerves.

Staying in her patch of light, Red glanced about. What was the shortest way back to her home? Down Cobble Street and then switch over to Tree Avenue? Or Maple Lane and then…

"Bo Peep, you owe me a map…" muttered Red as she scurried forward.

She took Maple Lane, hurried across the empty cobbled street, and found refuge in another lamp's light. Turning eyes to the dark Flower Lane, she shuddered, staring at the one flickering oil lamp halfway down. If she sprinted...

Bursting forward, she ran from the dark, eyes wide with faint terror. Curse it that she had to be scared of the dark!

She ducked into the light only a few moments later, panting but happy. She had made it! Turning, she glanced back out to the dark, letting its monsters slowly fade away as they saw she found refuge in the light.

Sighing with relief, Red turned before squeaking in startled surprise when she saw the person sitting on the bench. Her intent on the light had totally faded him out of her sight.

Tall, the person tugged his long jacket around him tighter, his gloves gripping the sides and pulling them towards the front. His face was hidden by a hood. Large brown boots covered his feet.

The right foot tapped against the floor as he gazed up at her with unseen eyes. A quiet, whispery voice asked, "My, my… I thought I was to be all alone with my thoughts tonight…" His voice grew amused when he added, "I wasn't expecting a girl running as if the bats of hell were chasing her however!"

Red blushed furiously, "Oh! I'm… I'm sorry! I'm just scared of the dark and… I just wanted to get to the light." She glanced down at the ground in shame.

"Ah…" The stranger nodded. "A perfectly normal fear. No need to be ashamed."

"… May I ask your name, sir?" asked Red uncertainly, peering closely at his shadowy and unseen face.

The stranger stood, hiding his face with a hand as he murmured, "Strangers are meant to be strangers… But I will tell you my name if you tell me yours."

"Easy. Maria Landon."

"… Landon? I'm afraid I've never met you. Still… I would find myself lucky if I never met me." The stranger chuckled.

"Huh? Why's that?"

"Oh… Nothing…" The stranger leaned back on his bench, glanced up, and then snorted, "Aha! There you are!"

Red jumped in surprise, glanced up wildly, and saw nothing. "…What are you talking about?"

"What I wait for on nights like this… There's always that one moth… I swear, he must come back to life every morning, because I always watch him burn up in that lamp…" The stranger pointed a finger.

Red saw the large white moth, furry and frantic, flitting about the lamp. She saw the insect flutter towards the enclosed flame, find a little vent, crawl up into the bubble of glass, and near the flame. The next moment, a puff of flame, and the moth was gone.

Red blinked, a little feeling of uncomfortable nervousness creeping upon her as the stranger laughed uproariously, leaning forward, clutching his stomach as he huffed raspy chuckles. "Um… That's not funny…"

"To me, it is…" breathed the stranger, struggling to right himself as he tried to calm down. "It's the only highlight in my nights other than my work. Really… Does that moth somehow revive? It's always the same white moth… Don't you wonder how he does that?"

"…It's not the same moth."

"It is! White and beautiful… Maybe it is forever doomed to come back and burn…" The stranger grew thoughtful and pensive, "Hmm… Or maybe you're right…" Slowly, he stood, startling Red by showing how unnaturally tall he was, and tapped the glass with a gloved finger for a moment. Then, turning, he glanced at Red before saying, "I think you're right."

"Moths don't… come back after getting burned…" Red stared up at him. He was at least two and a half feet taller than her. She was used to be short, only four foot seven, but, still! Annoyed as she was reminded by her stunted stature, she muttered, "How tall are you?"

"Hmm? Oh… about seven one, seven two… And you? Four… six?"

"Seven."

"Oh… Sorry. An inch is an inch when you only have a few of them…" The stranger chuckled.

Squeaking in indignant anger, Red balled her fists and hissed, "That's not funny." Furious, she stormed out of the patch of light and left the stranger to stop his strangled laughing and stare after her.

"Wait! I never told you my name!" He called.

"I don't want to know!" snarled Red as she stomped away from the oil lamp and the stranger that felt such comfort watching innocent moths burn up in the flames.

* * *

The next morning, Red woke up groggily, searched for her red cape, and groaned when she realized she had left it at Bo Peep's. She rushed over, crossing Flower Lane again, glancing at the bench and the now-extinguished oil lamp, remembering the stranger, and then shaking her head to continue on her way. 

Her simple plan of 'Go in, get the cloak, get out' immediately veered off schedule when Bo Peep excitedly showed her a parchment that proclaimed an All Hallow's Eve festival the next night. She begged Red to come with her and make a costume for, in Bo Peep's words, "We can scare Blue out of his mind!"

Bo Peep had a minor crush for Blue, so, feeling lost but obligated, Red agreed, went to make costumes. Bo Peep ended up as a witch, painting her face a motley array of colors from brown to black to a gray-teal-blue. Red just wore her red cape and placed a little red hat upon her eye, let Bo Peep paint her face like a skeleton's.

Then, poking his head in, eyes wide, Bo Peep's little brother said worriedly, "Bo… Billy fell into the well again."

"Ah!" Bo turned away and hurried out the door.

Instantly, the boy stepped in, closed the door, and asked hopefully, "Red… Will you do my costume for me?"

"… You lied, didn't you?"

"It's not a wolf this time, and… Billy does fall into the well a lot… He is a goat, after all..." The boy clasped his hands together, turned imploring eyes to her.

Red giggled, "What do you want to be?"


	4. Hallow's Eve

The little sheep boy, now a little ghoul, scurried ahead of Red and Bo Peep, screaming in excitedly. Ahead, they could see the bonfire that was erected each Hallow's Eve for the festival. To the side, they could see tables filled with glorious food: pancakes, cakes, and pastries from King Boggen; mincemeat and plum pies from Jack Horner; and, of course, tea and cider laid out gracefully by Polly the brewer's daughter. Also, there were barrels full of water and apples for the children to play bob-for-the-apple with.

Instantly, the little sheep boy scurried off towards the barrels, leaving Red and Bo Peep to ogle at the food. They hadn't eaten lunch, and that food was looking especially tasty…

* * *

Night fell quickly, and the bonfire lit up the sky like a flickering torch of a giant. The little children danced to the fiddles and hurdy-gurdies as the adults clapped along.

Blue, dressed as a skeleton, shivered in the cool night air as he munched at an apple, "Goshdarnit, Red! Come on! You have to stay! It's only ten o'clock or something!"

"It's dark, cold, and too loud! And my tummy hurts…" moaned Red. She had eaten way too much icing from the cakes. "And… I don't want to wait or else it'll be midnight –and you know how dangerous that time is- and I won't be able to get home!"

"But… You didn't hear about the rape?"

"Huh? What rape?"

"They didn't say who, but they said a girl got raped and-"

Bo Peep snorted, shoveling a glazed plum from her pie into her mouth. Through her mouthful, "Must be Rapunzel or Snow White or someone like that. Haven't seen them… and you know that they'd be flitting around flirting."

"… Yeah…" said Blue, blinking with realization before growing frustrated, "And that's why you have to stay, Red! You don't wanna get raped, do you?"

"That's just a story." Sniffed Red, crossing her arms.

"A story? Are you willing to risk your…" Blue trailed off as a shadow fell across his shoulders. Glancing slowly back, he smiled hesitantly at Pinocchio, "Hello, Mr. Detective…"

"Hello, Langdon. Couldn't help but overhear your conversation." Pinocchio leaned forward, resting a hand on Blue's stiff shoulder.

"Oh… I was just… trying to keep Red from going home…" said Langdon, wilting.

"I would agree with your little friend, Marie. Wait till someone can walk home with you."

"… Why?" complained Red.

"We wouldn't want you to get hurt." Said Pinocchio seriously. The fact that his nose didn't twitch showed he was telling the truth.

"Was there really a rape?"

Without a word, Pinocchio turned, strutted back towards the dancers.

Blue glowered after the wooden man, "Could be a little less stiff, couldn't he? I mean, he's stiff as a log right now. Bet someone's going to try to push him into the bonfire."

"Blue!" squeaked Red and Bo Peep together, horrified.

"What? Just saying…" said Blue sullenly.

* * *

Red succeeded in sneaking away from the festival and hurried down the dark street, hastily wiping away the paint with the hat as she glanced about in slight terror. The lamp lighter hadn't gone around to light the oil lamps, instead taking his family to the festival. As a result, the street glowered in its darkness, threatening and ominous. The ground slunk with mist once more.

Red hurried down the avenue, glancing worriedly from right to left. She hated the dark! It just reminded her of the… No! She would not think about it!

Suddenly, she saw the stranger from the night before, standing on his bench, leaning against the lamp pole as he slowly held a match into the glass box. When it lit, he drew back, blew the match out, and slowly snuggled down onto the bench.

Red hurried to the pole, causing the stranger to glance up in weary surprise, "Oh… Hello again. There seems to be no one out tonight, doesn't it? Even the lamp-lighter forgot his rounds..." He sighed loudly, glancing up at lantern, undoubtedly looking for the moth.

"They're all at the festival… Thank the Lord! Some light!" Red glowed with relieved pleasure as she basked in the flickering light of the lamp.

"Yes… I just lit it because I knew someone would be drawn to it… Now… Where's my moth?" He leaned back, gazed up into the air, and added, "I want to see if it's gotten any smarter from the last time it burnt."

"I thought you-"

"I was lying. I still think it's the same moth." The stranger itched at his stomach before glancing at Red and asking softly, "Do they have food at the festival?"

"Yes."

"Was it good?" he asked, a note of jealous envy consuming his voice.

"Yes. Why don't you go?"

"… I wouldn't be welcome… And, besides, I don't have a costume." The stranger sighed, glanced at her again, and then muttered grudgingly, "I like your costume."

"Huh?" Red glanced down at herself. She had taken everything off, and it was all now packed safely away in her little sac-à-main. "This?"

"Yes… What are you supposed to be? Is there supposed to be a little devil hat or something?" The stranger motioned to his hood.

"No! This is what I wear every day!"

The stranger stiffened, staring at her, and then asked slowly, "… Every day? Since when? Is it a new fashion style or something?"

"Since I was a little, little girl!"

The stranger shuddered as he questioned softly, "… Red… Riding Hood?"

"Yes… How did you know my nickname?"

Suddenly, strong hands were around her neck. As the first startled choke issued from her lips, the stranger snarled, "You little wench! You bliddy little wretch!"

Red's fingers scrabbled at the fingers, to no avail. As fuzzy black spots came onto her vision, she saw the white moth, the one the stranger was so obsessed with, and watched it as it wormed up to the flame to only burst into flames.

The last thought through her mind was a simple, "…He's right… It's the same moth."


	5. The Wolf

When she woke up, Red groaned as her head erupted into fierce pain. She turned over on the white, dirty blanket she lay upon, stared up at the unfamiliar ceiling, and then struggled up with a squeak of surprise. She glanced hurriedly about, saw the empty and bare room, gray in both mood and decoration, that contained her.

Staggering up, Red made her way to the door, pounded weakly at it. "Hey… Let me out…"

From outside, she heard a snort as someone was awoken from a small nap. After a few moments of silence, the grim voice of the stranger growled, "You're not coming out."

"Why…?" whined Red.

"Because you fooled me. If I had known you were Little Red Riding Hood the first night, I would have kidnapped you then… Oh well, oh well…" The stranger sighed.

Red glared at the wooden slab that kept her in this room, "Why would you do that?"

A low chuckle issued through the cracks of the door before the stranger discarded the question and posed another, "What did they tell you about the murders around town?"

"Murders?" Shocked, Red stepped back from the door.

"Oh… Did they play it down? A rather horrid crime recently? A beating or something like that to keep people on their toes and off the streets at night?"

"…You mean… The rape was… a murder?" Red shivered in sudden horror.

"Oh… They made me into a sexual predator, have they? No, no… I find no interest in things like that…" The stranger sighed before suddenly becoming cheerful, "Are you hungry?"

"…Yes…"

"Want a sandwich?"

"…Sure…"

The stranger came in twelve minutes later, holding a plate on which he had placed a carefully arranged sandwich of jam. He had even sliced it in half for her.

Watching Red eye it warily, he said pleasantly, "You do not like raspberry jam?"

Red snorted, "You poisoned it!"

"Why would I do that? I'm intent on saving you."

"Why?"

"You still haven't figured out who I am, have you?"

"No. Why would I have?"

"Eat it and I'll show you who I am."

Pondering this proposal, Red sullenly nodded, reached for the sandwich, pulled it apart, and made sure there was not any mysterious substance inside that would make her sick. She saw nothing but sticky, reddish-black jelly, so she took a morose bite.

The stranger watched her eat carefully, his fingers balling to fists before uncurling slowly. He chuckled and said in an exhausted voice, "It looks delicious… It is good, yes?"

"… Mm-hmm." Nodded Red, unable to say anything around her mouthful.

For a few more seconds, the stranger glanced her over before hefting himself up with a groan, wiping at his chest, and turning, "Well… Time for me to sleep now… I'll just leave you to your own devices…"

"Hey! You said you would tell me who you were!" complained Red, hastily swallowing her mouthful.

"If you're stupid enough not to have figured by now, you don't deserve to know." Without another word, the stranger left, shut the door, and, moments later, three clicks signaled all three locks had been bolted.

Red sighed, put down the small triangle of sandwich she hadn't eaten, crawled back to the blanket, and curled up with a small sob as she tried to retain her tears.

* * *

The stranger left her in the room for about twelve more hours before he came back in. In his hands was a few pieces of fruit, which he dropped to the floor before leaving.

He was gone again for another eight hours or so, and then he was back with a little pie.

As Red ate ravenously, he watched her intently, hands fidgeting by his sides, "Still want to know who I am?"

"Of course! That way, if I escape, I can tell the police who kidnapped me and they can arrest you." Snorted Red scornfully.

"Now, now… I'm taking good care of you…" said the stranger lazily before patting his stomach. "How about this? You ask a question, I ask a question, and we can only answer 'yes' or 'no'. Me first. You absolutely love plum pies?" He motioned to the half-eaten pie in Red's hands.

"Yes." Red mulled over her question before inquiring, "You're a boy… So… Are you a human?"

"No."

"Huh… Can't tell with your... hood thing..."

"My turn." The stranger smiled before softly muttering, "You… are a good cook?"

"I would think so, yes."

"You'll have to make me some soup one day…"

"I'm not going to do that… So, my question: You're an animal, so… Are you an omnivore?"

"Nah… Carnivore."

"Carnivore… Meat eater, right?"

"Not very well with words, are you?"

"Not really."

"Well then. You're still being incredibly dull-witted. I would have thought you'd have jumped right on who I was. Guess not."

"I'm not stupid… You're probably someone who thinks I should know, but who I really don't know."

The stranger chuckled, smiled, and then snorted, "Here, a clue: You've been really, really close to me."

"The only people I'm really close to are Bo Peep and Blue … And my mom and grandma, but they're dead now. I live alone now."

"Ah… I was close to your grandmother too…" sniffed the stranger, eyeing her, waiting for her to put one and one together.

"I' m not familiar with my grandma's old friends."

"Neither am I. You two met me together. Very, very close to me. Close to my heart, just below." He traced a gloved finger down his chest to his abdomen.

"That's weird!" giggled Red, bringing a piece of pie to her lips before suddenly choking as she realized. Staring up at him, she whispered, "No… He's dead."

"Who's dead?" sniffed the stranger, tapping his fingers. He was obviously enjoying this. "The Wolf? I'm sorry, but no. He's very much alive."

"But… But… You… were cut open… and… and…" Red shook uncontrollably, staring at him with horror.

"Thrown into a river, where I sank. Would have drowned to if I hadn't the pain to wake me up." Reaching up, the stranger pulled back his hood, and removed the shadows that covered his face for the first time.

Scruffy, dirty gray fur lay over a narrow muzzle while slanted milky eyes gazed at Red with curious, dark solemnity. Sharp, yellowing teeth bared themselves as he smiled, chortled, "Ha ha! So you do recognize me! Hello! At your service!" Still seated, he tried to bow, only bending over double, and then straightened to unzip his coat. He took it off, unbuttoned his shirt, pulled it off.

Red stiffened when she saw his torso. Metal staples sealed the yellowish-pink skin together where Red remembered, with horror, the unidentified woodsman had sliced him open. It was a long cut, starting at the end of his collarbone, extending down to under his pants.

Seeing her eyes trail on the thin trail of skin that scathed a path through his fur, the Wolf smiled sharply, "Oh… Noticing my stomach, are you? It's a very beautiful thing what you did to me… I can't eat solids. Liquids only… Including blood." He added the last part with a small chuckle.

"You- you- you monster!" Red backed away in horror.

"Oho! Monster!" The Wolf rocked with laughter before sniffing, "And how should I make up for that? I think I should make you a cake or something."

Startled, Red stared at him before asking curiously, "What are you talking about?" His nonchalant way of answering had squashed her fear.

"I need to feed you… 'Cept I'm a horrible cooker. Do you want to be allowed out of this room? If so, you got to make dinner tonight… I had a horrible night in hunting, and I'm so hungry…" The Wolf put a hand to his stomach and moaned.

"... If you're so hungry, why don't you eat me?" asked Red angrily, frustrated that her worst enemy was once again staring her in the face.

"One, I can't eat solids. Two, I wasn't planning on taking you. Three… I want you to be one of my first human meals." The Wolf grinned happily.

"So that's what you're doing? Just trying to fatten me up so you can have a big first meal when you heal?"

"Yes… Please… Don't be angry… I don't want to endure the screams and the agony of having no sleep for days to come. Just be happy that my stomach is in no condition for any experimentation for at least two or three weeks or so." The Wolf fidgeted nervously.

Red glowered at him, "Why should that make me feel better?"

"It should. You still have time."

"Not a lot of time."

"Enough time to regret ever having caused this." The Wolf growled, pointing at his staples.


	6. Soup

The Wolf took her out of the room that night and toured her about the house, happily showing her the dirty kitchen, the vile living room, the dusty bathroom, and every single little filthy nook and cranny. Red was disgusted. Afterwards, he took her back to the kitchen, set her to work.

As the Wolf watched her warily as she handled the blunt knife, he asked, "So… You're going to make me my soup?"

"I need to eat too."

"… Uhm… Could you make sure those little chunks of… is that-"

"A chicken, I guess. It was over there, still feathered, so… I guess it should be rather fresh."

"You… take the feathers off?" said the Wolf, shocked.

"Why not?"

"The feathers are what makes it tickle when it's going down! I love the tickling!" The Wolf moaned, wiggling in his chair as he remembered the feeling in his memories. "Well… anyways… could you please make sure that there're no pieces bigger than a pinky finger in there?"

"My pinky finger or yours?"

"Either… Just no bigger, please." The Wolf laid his head upon the table, watched her with milky white eyes.

Red found some water in the little pot in the corner and began to make a chicken broth with it. She would have added vegetables if he had had any, but all she could find was a rotting carrot tucked back in the cupboards.

Mouth watering as he smelled the air, the Wolf complained, "It's been thirty minutes! I want my soup!"

"Shut up!" growled Red indignantly. "You don't tend to your stove well, so it won't cook… And what do you have in there? Pieces of grass?" She glared at him.

"I ran out of wood long ago."

"You're lazy too, you fat monster!"

"… And you're prissy. Give me my soup."

"No! Not until you get me some firewood."

Next instant, she heard a dull crack behind her, turned to see the Wolf holding out the leg of one of the chairs to her, face furious. "This was the leg to your chair. Burn it. You'll be sitting on the floor."

* * *

The Wolf was ornery until he had his soup. As he gobbled it down, disregarding the dirty, crusted spoon had set next to his bowl, he splashed it down his chest, across his face, making the most atrocious and satisfied noises.

Red glared up at him from the corner, where she held her own bowl. "That's disgusting."

"Mm! No! This is excellent!" Extracting his muzzle from the depths of the bowl, he set it down, wiped at his fur happily. "Good soup, good soup!"

"… What if I can just stay and make soup for you and you don't have to eat me?" asked Red softly.

Instantly, the light of cheer died from the Wolf's eyes. Glancing at her, eyes empty and dull, he whispered, "No. I wouldn't do that. Blood and soup are two different things. Blood's still my favorite…"

"Ah…" Red tapped her spoon against the side of her bowl, her appetite lost.

The Wolf grunted, stood, and stalked over to her. Squatting, he peered at her face, glanced down at the bowl of soup, and then asked, "Are you going to eat that?"

"…I'm not hungry."

The Wolf took the bowl from her hands, went back to his chair, and began to scarf down his new soup, seriousness disappearing back into cheery goodwill.

* * *

The Wolf put her back in her little cell after he had finished his meal, promising he would bring back a small pie or cake when he went out for the night. Eight hours later, he fulfilled his promise, brought in a small cherry pie in for the ravenous Red, and watched her eat it with envy grumbling through his mind. Afterwards, he wandered away to fall to sleep. He left the door unlocked. 

Red wandered about the half of the house she had been introduced to. Several times, she tried to open the door that led to the rest of the house, but the Wolf had locked it. There were no windows, no doors to the outside, so Red, disheartened, decided to snoop about.

The Wolf kept an extensive amount of liquids in his cupboards, mostly water, juice, and even had some dry little packets of tea. The only solid food she could find were some ragtag ensemble of bird parts, mostly rotting, definitely inedible.

The living room appeared to have been ignored for a miserable amount of time. Dust rose from the carpets as she stepped lightly over it, and the couch was perfectly filthy with hair and dirt. Some black curtains, which confused Red since there was no window to be seen, hung on the wall, drawn open.

The bathroom was disgusting. The chamber pot had been overrun by spiders, the small wooden tub full of spider webs. Beneath the gossamer threads was a pool of stagnant black water, floating with algae and little lumps of dirt. The sink was not much better.

Horrified by all of this, Red decided to clean, starting with the bathroom so she could take a little bath. She went to the kitchen, found a rag, and, with it, chased the spiders from the bathroom as she swept away the webs. The stagnant puddle was washed out with more water, only to leave an oblong circle of grime behind. Grim-faced, Red scrubbed it away.

After finding a little broom tucked away under the living room's couch, Red swept all the dust into small piles, left them, and used the broom to scare away the spiders on the ceiling.

Satisfied, Red brought heated water in from the kitchen, which she was sure from a push-pump outside. Quickly filling it, she hastily undressed, hoping to get in before the water lost its heat, and slipped in.

* * *

Red stayed in the bath for a long time, delighted by the soothing feeling it cast over her. However, halfway through her bath, the Wolf walked by the open door, humming. The sound stopped before he backtracked, peered in. Surprised, he stepped in, holding a plate, eyes wide, "You cleaned." 

Squeaking, Red turned in the water, glared at him, hissed, "I wanted to take a bath! Now get out!"

"Don't you want your sandwich? Milord, she actually cleaned!" The Wolf stared in wonder at the spots that he remembered as cobweb infested areas of infestation.

"I want you to get out!"

The Wolf turned, still awestruck, and stomped out.

* * *

Red came out a few minutes later, face red with embarrassment when she saw the Wolf waiting. He held up the plate, crooned, "Sandwich?" 

Red snatched it from him, bit angrily at it. "Haven't you ever heard of privacy? I was taking a bath!"

"… In my bathtub."

"You didn't take care of it, I cleaned it, so I have right to it." Said Red fiercely, glaring up at him.

The Wolf stared down at her before rubbing at his stomach and whimpering sarcastically, "You don't want to let me have a bath?"

"You can take a bath, but I'm not going to help you draw the water or any of that!" snorted Red.

"Ah… What a cruel girl…" the Wolf smiled, grabbed her shoulders, and towed her towards the kitchen.

"Ah! No! I'm not going to cook for you!"


	7. Put it into Perspective

Red ended up making more soup for the Wolf, who gorged upon it before scurrying up, finding all the water pots in the cupboards, lugged them to the bathroom, filled the tub, slipped in after undressing without a care that it was cold.

Red shouted down the hall, "You can at least shut the door!"

The Wolf made small splashing sounds before calling back in exultation, "Oh! I love this! I haven't even been in water for so long now! I just wish I could swim in here or something!"

The moment she heard a humongous splash, Red bristled, "Don't you dare make it dirty again!"

The Wolf blinked as he watched the dirt swirl in the water around him, "Hmm…" He glanced at his fur, matted and wet, and then began to paw furiously at himself.

"I said don't get it dirty!" yelled Red, waiting for an answer.

Sighing as he saw his coat's gleam where he had pawed, the Wolf glanced about, picked up his pants, wetted the cuff, and began to scrub at his fur, "Yes! I understand!"

* * *

The Wolf stayed in the bath for an hour and a half before emerging, shivering and matted. Scurrying to the locked door that led to the rest of the house, clutching his pants around him in place of a towel, he dug a key ring from the pocket of his pants, fumbled for a small silver key, unlocked the door, then hurried through. Red, who had found a book, stared at the door as it closed and locked again. Setting down the book, she sighed as she went to inspect the damage the Wolf had done to the tub.

The bath was filthy, small clumps of dirt invading the water. A layer of mud lay at the bottom of the tub. Disgusted, Red took the cork from the hole, watched the water spill out from the tub to rush down the small draining hole right by the bath, and went to work scrubbing the wood out of the tub.

As she was finishing, the Wolf appeared at the door, his fur tangled into knots. "You… wouldn't have happened upon a comb, would you?"

Red rolled her eyes, "It's on the side table by the couch."

The Wolf hurried to find it.

* * *

When Red left the bathroom, wiping her hands free of water, the Wolf sat on the dusty couch, struggling as he pushed a comb through his fur. He had already managed the fur on his arms, but the fur right by the staples was giving him problems.

Flinching as he tugged at a knot, the Wolf finally ripped it through, glanced at the small ball of fur stuck to the comb, growled in anger, and picked it off. He glanced up at Red, who was watching curiously, and hissed, "What?"

"… You're really bad at combing." Commented Red.

Furious, the Wolf muttered insults under his breath as he continued to brush at his coat. Soon, a little pile of ripped-out fur lay beside him, and the Wolf was pining away in soreness. Finally, he glowered at Red, "Help me."

"No."

"Why not?" he asked, struggling to keep his temper down.

"'Cause you're mean to me."

"I'm being _nice_ to you right now: feeding you, giving you blankets, letting you wander around _my _house… You should be in the other room, dead and bleeding. So, all I ask in exchange is silence and obedience, and you get to continue your happy little existence till I can eat solids again. Help me." The Wolf held out the comb, trembling with fury.

Sighing, Red came over, took the comb, and began to wrestle with a knot on his chest. As she worked at it, she growled, "I still don't like you."

"Never asked you to like me." Snuffled the Wolf, staring down at her head before glancing at his staples. Reaching down, he itched at them before leaning forward, seizing Red, and whispering, "But it would be helpful if we didn't repeat the 'cutting open of the stomach' thing."

"That wasn't me!"

"But it was your friend, the Woodsman… He followed you."

"Which I didn't know about. And I don't even know him! He just cut me out of you! For heaven's sake, I don't know what he looks like! For all I knew, I was dead!"

"Starting when?" asked the Wolf, curiously.

"The minute you gobbled me down…" Red glared at him angrily.

"And how was it in my stomach, next to your grandmother?"

"It was dark and horrible!" Red threw down the comb, glared up at the Wolf angrily. "And we could barely breath!"

"…Ah..." The Wolf leaned back, patted his stomach, stared up at the ceiling as he imagined the feeling, "It felt so different for me… I was so satisfied… And sleepy… A rush of euphoria can do that to you, you know…" He blinked, glanced at her, and then bent to grab up the comb. As he wrestled at the knots, he muttered, "And then I had to fall asleep… And I woke up, found myself full of stones and being thrown into the river. Do you know how painful it is to rip yourself open so you can take out stones that someone, namely you and your grandmother and your woodsman, put into you? And you even had to thread it up! Well… I had to do that, I emptied myself, and then… I woke up on the shore, barely alive, thanks to you and your-"

"You shouldn't have tried to eat me then!" snarled Red, pointing a finger at him.

"I hadn't eaten for three days. I couldn't think straight. It's not my fault." Said the Wolf in his defense.

"Still!"

"What? I should have just continued on my way to starve? Put this into perspective: you haven't eaten for three days, you're big enough to swallow most humans whole, and then you see this little girl, all alone, walking through the forest. She has a basket that has something in it that smells positively wonderful…"

The Wolf paused, wiped a little dribble of saliva from the corner of his mouth, and continued slowly, "You stop her, intent on eating her, but you don't want screams or a struggle, so you sweet-talk her first. In doing so, you find out she has a grandmother who is sick. Easy prey, and you know exactly where the granny lives. What luck! So you decide to splurge and eat both. Would you have done anything different?"

"Yes!" said Red, angry.

"I doubt so."

"Well, I don't eat people!"

"I do. They're actually pretty delicious, once you get past the clothes."

"Argh!" Red hit his knee angrily, stumbled up, and stormed from the room.


	8. A Good Night in Hunting

The Wolf left in his disguise that night, and Red woke up late night to the sounds of shrieks and screams. Wide-eyed, she peeked out into the cold, dark hall, saw nothing, crept out. The Wolf had allowed her one lantern when she had asked him for it. She took it, held it above her head, and continued down the hall.

The screams came from behind the locked door to the rest of house. Shivering, Red set the lantern down, knocked on it as she trembled.

The screams continued as the door yanked open only a few seconds later. Furious, the Wolf hissed, "What?"

"…What are you doing? Who's scream-"

The Wolf grunted and slammed the door shut in her face.

* * *

The next morning, the Wolf was stiffly sitting in the kitchen, staring at a small piece of cloth in his hand, when Red stumbled in, rubbing her eyes. Seeing him, Red stopped, glared, and then asked, "What was last night about?"

"Huh?" The Wolf glanced up, ceased toying with the cloth, which Red saw to be a lady's glove, and then muttered, "I had a good night in hunting. Nothing more. I just have to wait for a while longer… Do you want something?"

Red shuddered, her appetite lost. "No."

"Why not? You haven't eaten since yesterday… I would be starving…" The Wolf lifted the glove to his nose, took in a deep breath, and brushed the silk across his black nose. He groaned. "I love the feel of silk…"

Seeing an opportunity to get away from the topic of food, Red asked hurriedly, "That's a silk glove?"

"Yes… Lovely, isn't it?" The Wolf held it up, "You can have it if you want… I just wanted to feel it…" He held it out to her. As she reached forward hesitantly, he asked softly, "Do you need clothes? I could give you some stuff…"

* * *

Red stared as the Wolf reappeared at the usually locked door with an armful of clothing. Dumping it onto the ground, he knelt, sorted through them, and then motioned to Red, "Here… See if any of these are okay. If you want, I know I have some thread and needles in my room…"

Red gazed at the clothing before choking, "That's all from your… victims?"

"Yes." The Wolf held up a dress, crinkled his nose at the bright blue and pink strips that crossed it, and then tossed it aside, "You'd look like a candy in that one. Hmm… That'd tempt me too much..." He held up another one. "This one?"

"… Could I just have some scissors and that thread and needle? I can… make my own clothes…" muttered Red.

Nodding, the Wolf turned, crept back into his private part of the house. He left the door ajar.

For a few seconds, Red stared at the door before hurrying in, curiosity overwhelming her. She glanced to the right, where the Wolf had gone, and quickly jogged down the left hall.

The house was considerably messier on this side, the carpet torn up in some places, the carpet itself dusty and brown where it should have been white. As she neared the room at the end of the hall, the carpet turned from brown to a light gray-red. Red stopped, gazing at the stains, then took a deep breath and creaked open the door.

Instantly, she shrieked.

The room, white walls now red and splattered, the carpet torn up completely to reveal a stone-gray and crimson floor, was small and cramped, possibly intended to be a child's bedroom. Tucked away in the corner was a dilapidated table, upon which was placed several knifes, all crusted with blood. Besides was a chair.

But what the horrified Red focused on was the hanging corpse. Hooked by her feet, the nude woman hung from the ceiling. Her head, tilted back, showed a slashed throat, from which blood dropped sluggishly into a large dented metal bowl beneath her head. Wide, glassy eyes, blue in color, stared out at her, as if pleading for mercy.

Red was about to scramble back, still squeaking in fear, when she crashed into the Wolf. Grabbing her, the Wolf hissed, "You do not come over to this part of my house, you little wretch! This is my private place!" He dragged her back roughly, his claws curling into her shoulders, drawing blood.

Red slumped weakly, terror having taken its complete hold of her. "How… how could you?"

The Wolf only growled as a reply, thrust her back through the door, and threw down blunt scissors, thread, and a packet of needles down next to her. Furious, he slammed the door shut, locked it.


	9. Staples

For the next hour, Red shuddered over what she had just witnessed, shivering each time she recalled the lady's dead eyes, the slashed throat, the knives covered in blood. Finally, trying to push it from her mind, she took up the clothes, regarded them, snipped off parts she wanted, and began to sew the different parts of the clothes together.

The Wolf came back over from his private side of the house. Red glanced up at him, flinched when he saw a thin ring of blood around his lips. Seeing her blanch, the Wolf wiped away the blood, huffed, and muttered, "I guess soup's out of question?"

"You already had your meal…" mumbled Red angrily, busying herself with the sewing.

"It wasn't enough. I'm still hungry."

"Too bad. I'm not making you anything."

"… Then I'll make it myself…" sniffed the Wolf. "Do you know where the meat knife is?"

Red jerked, stared up at him, and hissed, "You wouldn't!"

* * *

The Wolf, now introduced to the basic preparation of soup, took one of the dead lady's arms, cut it up into itty-bitty pieces, fetched some water, and made a soup with it. Red went to lock herself in her room when the first scent of boiling meat came upon her nose. She threw up in the corner of her room.

After eating, the Wolf came to find her. Looking rather bloated, he sighed happily, "I'm done… You can come out now."

"No…" sobbed Red, crying into her knees.

Glancing at her, the Wolf also saw the little pile of vomit in the corner, pursed his lips, and then chuckled, "Not used to the smell of cooking meat?"

"T-that's horrible! Leave me alone!"

"You don't want dinner?"

"No! I never want to go into that kitchen again! How could you? That is so disgusting!"

"It was yummy." The Wolf strolled to her, knelt, and glanced over her patchwork. "You're doing very well with your needlework."

"Don't try to change the subject!" Red squawked angrily, still crying.

"Argh…" the Wolf groaned as he rolled his eyes, frustrated at her behavior, "Would you please stop crying? You're being-"

With a sudden wave of fury, Red took her needle, stabbed it into his thigh. The Wolf yelped, rolled back, then stared at the sliver of metal embedded deep in his flesh. With a grimace, he jerked it out of his skin, stared at the bloody point, and then glanced at Red blankly, who glowered at him in angry fear.

He struggled to smile as a drop of blood stained his light beige pants, "Ow…"

"You deserved it!" hissed Red, struggling not to shiver in fear.

"And you weren't afraid to act upon it… Very good, except I'm on the receiving end… Bravery is not an act that I like from my prey." The Wolf stood, poked at the blood, and frowned, "Don't do it again."

Red bared her teeth at him in a feral snarl, "Stay away from me then!"

The Wolf watched her shiver, her sweating skin, before smirking, "You can't make me listen if you aren't confident even in yourself!"

Suddenly exhausted, Red broke down, sobbing and curling up on the floor. With a sniff of disdain, the Wolf left.

* * *

That night, Red stumbled from her room, hungry and sullen. The Wolf waited for her in the kitchen, eyes slits as they surveyed her. Red did not let her eyes meet his and went straight to the cupboards, rifled through the jars, found some jam, and then began to make herself a sandwich.

She felt the narrowed eyes on her back, shivered, turned, still ignored him as she headed for the door. As she passed the table, however, he reached out, snatched her cloak, and muttered, "I need food. Make soup."

"Make it yourself." She said softly, pulling her cloak, trying to swipe away his hand.

"Then you'll go and be mad at me again and I'll have to watch you cry to death. I want you to make it so you don't have a reason to cry. I detest tears. They make me so uncomfortable… And, besides, the soup I made this morning was horrible and rotten. You need to make it."

"If I don't look at you, then I won't have a reason to cry. And I don't care how good your soup was. Just leave me alone."

With a sigh, the Wolf stood, "Well… I'm deeply grieved you respond this way…" He reached out, grabbed her, and was instantly dragging her down the hall.

Dropping her sandwich, Red struggled, screamed, "What are you doing? What are you doing? Let me go!"

The Wolf hurried into the bathroom, pulled her to the full tub, and then pushed her head in. Red gasped at the touch of the freezing water, flailed, but the Wolf mercilessly held her there for fifteen seconds more as she breathed water before pulling her. Gasping, Red's pupils dilated as the Wolf hissed, "Stop this utter nonsense!"

Red started to cry.

With a growl, he pushed her back under, waited another thirty seconds, and then pulled her up, "And no crying!" Again, he shoved her in.

This time, Red fainted before he dragged her back up.

* * *

The Wolf was at her side when she woke up, nibbling at his claw as he muttered.

"-Stupid girl won't wake up. Not my fault! She was the one who was the brat in the first place. And-" The Wolf blinked when he saw her eyes flicker open, bared his teeth in a smile, "Oh! So she lives!"

Red stared up at him before hacking violently, some small dribbles of wet trickling out of her mouth.

The Wolf leaned forward, dragged her upwards, and then patted her back softly, "Welcome back to the world."

"Y-you freak! You tried to drown-" Red erupted into another fit of coughing.

"No, I did not try to drown you. I taught you a lesson so you wouldn't sulk about and ignore my commands anymore. Now…" The Wolf crawled over her, stood, and walked to the door. "I want my soup. Come and make me some."

* * *

Fearful that the Wolf would try to drown her again, Red scurried out, cut up a turkey he had caught and brought in while she had been unconscious, and simmered it in water till it was boiling and scenting the room.

The Wolf shivered at the table, eager for a meal, "Oh! It smells delicious! Why is it taking so long?" His tail wagged, sticking out the space in the bottom of the back of the chair.

"It needs to boil…"

"But it smells good already!" The Wolf scratched at his stomach, tugged at his staples, and then turned suddenly serious and glum, "… Do you think I could eat a rat?"

"What?" Surprised, Red stared at him, momentarily forgetting the boiling pot.

"You know… A rat?" The Wolf held his hands up, about a foot from each other, and stared at the space between before continuing, "If I could stomach that, you could start making other things than soup…. Like steak!" The Wolf licked his lips, envisioning a slab of meat, and then blinked. "Or cookies… or anything else you're good at making."

"Let me guess: after that, you keep moving up the food chain till you're sure you'd be able to eat me?"

"That's the general idea, yes." The Wolf nodded absently.

"Oh… No, I don't think you're ready yet." Unnerved, Red turned back to the pot, dabbed at the miniscule pieces of turkey bobbing it up, and added, "Stick to soup."

"For how long, the next decade? Or just until you're feeling so bored that you'd want me to eat you?" asked the Wolf grumpily, setting his head on the table, hunching over.

"I'd never want that.""Oh, trust me… Boredom can do nasty things to a person."

"And this is from what experience?"

"I was stuck with a third-rate doctor who sewed me up with rusty staples. After that, infection. Another third-rate doctor, another infection. Couldn't stray too close to the cities for the better doctors 'cause they'd recognize me and either kill me or call the police. Finally, I found one who actually fixed up my shot-up nervous system and gave me good staples… And then a bed that I had to stay in for a month straight…. Nothing to eat other than watery whey and some disgusting concoction of herbs. I was so bored… And not to mention…" The Wolf stopped, thought, and then changed the subject to ask, "Would you fix up something for me?"

Red pulled the pot from the stove, set it upon a rag on the countertop, and rifled through the cupboards in search of a bowl that was not covered in grime or dirt. "What is it?"

She heard a scrape of a chair, glanced back to see the Wolf's gray bushy tail disappearing out the door. Pursing her lips, she spooned soup into two slightly dirty bowls she had found, gave the grimier spoon to the Wolf, and set it upon the table.

The Wolf came back in, shoving his key ring back into his pocket, the other hand hidden behind his back. Smiling nervously, he muttered, "You have to promise not to laugh."

"Tell me what it is first."

"It's not mine. I'm just… fond of it. Promise not to laugh."

"…Sure…"

Without a word, the Wolf pulled a little floppy toy out from behind his back. It was made of dirty gray silk, the image of a little wolf. One of its button eyes was missing, showing a little fluff of cotton. One of rounded paws was torn apart, where most of the cotton had escaped from, making the little toy sag miserably. The tail had obviously seen much better times.

Red stared at it, glanced up at the hopeful face of the Wolf, returned her eyes to the cotton toy, and then burst into laughter.


	10. Fixing a Toy

The Wolf wouldn't talk to Red for the rest of the day, miserable that she had laughed at him. While he lay cooped up behind the locked door, Red compared the broken toy to the scraps of cloth she had, trying to find the best cloth to patch the toy up with.

For stuffing, she shredded the ugly, striped dress into little, itty-bitty pieces, lay that in a pile to the side, and then cut little squares from the lacy white dress. Afterwards, she dissected the toy, saved all the little fluffs of cotton next to the pile of shredded cloth, and began to inspect the empty skin of the toy.

The actual sewing and patching turned the little gray toy into colorful patchwork plush. The gray silk was spotted now with cotton and velvet patches of white and black. The missing button was replaced by a small black one, just a tad smaller than the other. The paw became a little red glove.

Then, as a finishing touch, Red stitched a little smile on the wolf's featureless muzzle before stuffing it full of its cotton and cloth innards.

When the Wolf appeared at her door, still sullenly silent, she presented it to him. Instantly, the morbid demeanor disappeared to be replaced with cheer. He held it up, smiled brightly, and then poked at the patchwork, "Thank you! You didn't have to make it so pretty though… What's this? A smile?" The Wolf peered at the little toy.

"… Do you really play with that?"

"No." said the Wolf hurriedly.

"Than why is it so torn up?"

The Wolf was suddenly defensive. "Um… It's… not mine… But… he left it here and… I like it… So… um…"

"Never mind…" sighed Red, standing. "Let me guess: soup?"

"No, actually, I was wondering if you wanted to watch me eat a rat." The Wolf glanced at her curiously. "And if I end up lying on the floor in extreme agony, you'd be there to keep my from ripping out my staples."

Red glared at him fiercely, "No way!"

"No matter, no matter! I have it right here!" The Wolf turned, stepped out the door. Red saw him bend over, his torso out of view as he set the toy down, before he straightened, holding a large, dead rat.

Instantly, Red scooted back, eyes widening with disgusted horror. "Ew! No! Don't you dare bring that in here! That's disgusting!"

The Wolf held it in front of his nose, eyes curious, "But I washed it too…" He poked at it, sniffed at it, and then glanced at the pale Red, "What? It's not going to come after you… See? It's dead." He swung it back and forth.

"That's gross! Stay out of my- No! Get out! Get out!"

The Wolf stepped in, blinked, and then smiled, "Ready?"

"Get out! Get out! Get-"

Raising the rat above his head, the Wolf turned up his snout, opened his mouth wide, and dropped the rat in. It didn't even make his neck bulge as it slid down his esophagus. Glancing back down at Red, the Wolf pursed his lips before sniffing, "Now… To wait." He sat down, pulled his knees up to his chest, and gazed at the floor.

Red stared at him before gulping dryly and asking hoarsely, "…And you actually _like _that?"

"It's not particularly my favorite… If you noticed, it's way too small to be even called a snack… But it'll help me see whether or not I have to keep sticking to soup or not…" The Wolf poked at his stomach, licked his lips. "I'm not feeling anything… Think I'll be all right?"

Red bit her lip before nodding hesitantly.

"Well then! Time to go to sleep then!" The Wolf stood, wandered out the door.

* * *

The next afternoon, Red was shaken rudely awake by the Wolf. Glaring up at him as she squinted, Red hissed, "What? I was sleeping!"

"… I waited around town till this morning and I went to the store."

Red waited, but, when the Wolf made no signs of continuing, she asked irritably, "…And?"

"I bought some food… Would you make me something?"

Red pulled the blanket over her head, grumbled, "What did you do before me? Starve between bleeding people?"

"Yes. Please make something…." The Wolf crawled onto her, pulled the blanket down, and peered eagerly into her face. "Or I'll bite you."

"Fine! I'm getting up!" Red shoved him off angrily.

* * *

Red stared at the knapsack that was almost overflowing with food before glancing at the Wolf and asking, "How much are you planning to eat?"

"A lot." The Wolf replied bluntly, watching her, waiting for her to act.

"You're not going to help me unpack it?"

"I lugged it here. I spent the money."

"Where do you even get money? And that doesn't count."

"I save up money that I find on my prey. It was heavy. It was work. You work now." The Wolf settled down, looked at her with glittering milky eyes.

Red sighed, picked up the bag, and then glowered at him, "What the heck did you buy?"

"Food."

"All the heavy food?"

"Lots of meat."

"And how are we going to keep that from spoiling?"

"I don't know."

"You don't have a basement or something? That usually helps."

"My basement is not going to be used for that. It's already used for something else." Sniffed the Wolf. "How about you cook it all now and salt it? Or… sun-dry it?"

"What?" asked Red, furious and annoyed. "That'd take all day! And, besides, you won't let me outside!"

"Then take all day. You're right. I wouldn't let you outside… So… I have a bag of salt that I can give you."

"So you're not going to help me at all?" Red hissed with hatred.

The Wolf shook his head, "Nope."

"Fine! You can watch half of your meat spoil before I even get to it!"

The Wolf groaned, "No… Don't say that… You haven't even seen how much I have yet… You might be able to cook it all or something easily…"

Red pursed her lips, unpacked the knapsack, and inspected the innards. Grudgingly, she muttered, "You're right…. I could do all of this... But I want help!" She gazed at the Wolf, hoping he would relent and help her.

The Wolf smiled, "Everything else is yours. Tell me when you're done. I'll be in the living room." He stood, strolled from the room.

* * *

It took a full three hours for Red to cook all the meat and to layer salt around it. The Wolf provided a small barrel for it, happily rolled it into his private part of the house, and returned to find Red sleeping on the kitchen chair, exhausted.

Slowly, he neared her, sniffing, and then bent to whisper, "Hey… Wake up… What about you? You need to eat…"

Red breathed on calmly, face happy as she waltzed through a dream.

Transferring to all fours, the Wolf ducked under the table, the fur of his back brushing against the underside, and rested his head on Red's lap, peering up at her face. "Hey… Wake up…"

Again, Red dozed on.

The Wolf's eyes narrowed before he scooted the chair back, put his forepaws on the sides of the chair, and hefted himself up so he was halfway-up on the chair. Leaning forward, he sniffed at her exposed neck before growling in annoyance, "Wake up!"

No response.

The Wolf opened his mouth, breathed out onto her face. For a second, Red breathed on before suddenly stiffening, paling, and snorting awake. Instantly clapping her hands over her nose, she saw the Wolf, snarled, "You have the worst breath in the world!"

The Wolf chuckled, pushed at her shoulders, "Off my chair. If you want to sleep, go to your room… But first, eat something."

Red stood, watched the Wolf angrily as he pulled the rest of himself up onto the chair, turned, and watched her. After a few moments, the Wolf sighed, "Does the word 'eat' not register with you?"

"Well, let's see!" said Red hotly. "I'm tired of eating jam sandwiches, first of all, and let's look at what you bought at the store!" She stomped over to the countertop. "Meat, meat, and more meat! Then, lots of flour, sugar, melted butter, and some… broken eggs…that was disgusting… and spoiled milk! You actually think I can eat that stuff? The only thing in here that's edible is the chocolate!" Red picked up a square block of chocolate and waved it around angrily.

"I was hoping you'd make cookies."

"Well, I can't! Next time, buy vegetables and fruits that won't spoil when you're coming back."

The Wolf stared at her, a bit surprised as she yelled at him. He jumped from the chair, used the table to help pull himself back up to his back two feet, and strode forward, "Well… Why don't you make a list and I'll see what I can do."

* * *

The Wolf went to the store again the next morning, bought the things Red had demanded. As he watched her beaming face as she unpacked the satchel, he whispered with disgust, "How can you eat those…?" He grimaced when he saw Red pull out an orange.

"Just because I'm living with you doesn't mean to I have to live off jam for the rest of my life… Ooh! What's this?" Red pulled out a small paper-wrapped chicken before glaring at the Wolf, "Don't you have enough meat…?"

The Wolf blanched, reached for it, yanked it away from her, and hugged it to his chest, glaring at her, "It's mine. If I cut it in half, I can eat it by tomorrow."

"Great." Red said, not really caring as she reached back into the bag.

* * *

The Wolf stayed in his room for the next two days, not even coming out when Red knocked at the door, bored. Finding nothing to occupy herself with, Red returned to the clothes, finished up her dress.

It was red down from the neckline to the fringe. The sleeves cut away to a swathe of lacy white, while the pockets possessed corners of lace. The buttons were alternating black and gold.

After finishing, she became bored again, went to clean the rest of the accessible part of the house. The kitchen became rather spotless, lest she count the dirty dishes piled in the corner waiting for a good wash, and the living room was free of dust. Her bedroom needed no more work than a few sweeps of a broom and a dust rag.

The third day, the Wolf appeared at her doorway, smiling broadly. "Hello."

Red glanced up from her little mittens, which she was sewing out of the patches of cloth left. Staring up at him, she squeaked, "Hello."

"You seem surprised. Thought I'd left you?" The Wolf crept in, came over, peered at her work.

"Where were you? I was going to ask you to bring in more water so I could clean up the dishes."

"Huh… I was in my room." Defended the Wolf, eyes narrowing. "Sleeping."

"For two straight days?"

"It happens."

Red sighed, knowing that the Wolf was hiding something, but decided to question no further. Instead, she asked, "What's going on in the outside world?"

The Wolf glanced at her curiously before smirking, "Pandemonium, panic… People trying to catch me even when they had no idea who I am. They're afraid of _something_, but they don't know what. I think that would be a miserable existence, don't you?"

"Depends on who you are."

"I'm me. I'd be miserable. So... Change of topic…" The Wolf rubbed his hands before stating, "If I didn't want to eat you, I'd keep you as my cleaning maid. You do such a good job."

"Well, I would gladly do that instead of being eaten. I could make soup and food for you…" Red stared up at the Wolf, seeing the idea had no effect on him whatsoever.

"Now… Why would I do that?"

"So I could live."

"… But I want to eat you. Just having you in the house in a temptation enough. Knowing I couldn't eat you would just destroy me. It's what I've been working up to." The Wolf beamed happily. "See? I start with small rats and cats and then move up to dogs, and thank the heavens you haven't grown that much! I might be able to eat you up right after the dogs!"

Dryly, Red growled, "Well… only another reason why I wish I wasn't short."

"Ah… Don't be sad. It'll take a while." The Wolf bent, blew on her hair, and then whispered, "I want some food."

"I'll make you some soup." Muttered Red, pushing his snout away.

"I don't want soup. I want cookies. Or cake. Make some."

"The chocolate's done. No eggs… Or milk, or butter, for that matter!"

"I'll go get some, and they won't be broken or spoiled when I come back… You'll make something good?" The Wolf peered suspiciously into her face.

"Yes."

"And if I bring double what you need, will you make two?"

"Why would you want-"

"One for now and one for later."

"Glutton."

"Ah…" the Wolf flopped down, turned onto his back, and huffed up to her, eyes bright, "I just got the ability to eat small solids again… Just humor me."

Red stared at his underbelly, the scathing scar, and the metal clenched staples. Without thinking, she reached over, rubbed at the gray fur.

The Wolf froze, staring at her hand, and then slumped as he moaned. "Ah… If you're going to treat me like a dog, shouldn't you give me some doggy treats too?" He chuckled before adding, "And you never answered… You'll make two? Please?"

"Sure…" Red toyed with the lock of soft fur before flinching as the Wolf took her arm into his jaws gently, thrust it away, and stumbled up. Glancing at her arm, seeing the small craters his sharp teeth had left on her arm.

He scratched at his fur before sniffing, "Okay then… I'll be back in an hour… I suppose…"


	11. Peter

The Wolf was away for two hours, finally coming back with his knapsack full of metal canisters of milk, a sealed bowl of butter, and twenty or so eggs. Also in the sack was a freshly killed goose, which the Wolf was setting atop the table when Red came in.

Red froze, stared, and then complained, "More meat?"

"It's mine. You don't have to do anything to it… I got the cake stuff. Make them." The Wolf held out the satchel, eyes glinting eagerly.

* * *

It took Red an hour to make two medium-sized cakes. The Wolf had enough sugar laying around in the cupboards, so Red added a nice layer of white, sugary frosting atop. 

The Wolf stole one of the cakes, cut a quarter off for Red, and then devoured the rest voraciously. After he had eaten, he lay back in his chair, drumming his fingers against his stomach as he thought about something. Finally, he asked, "Do you have any siblings?"

Red glanced uneasily at him. "No… Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering…" The Wolf didn't turn his eyes away from the ceiling as he toyed with one of the staples lining his cut.

Red watched him for a few seconds more, not sure, before resuming her eating.

"I need to make you a new chair." Finally commented the Wolf, glancing down to see her seated on the ground, as she usually was.

"You don't have to."

The Wolf nodded, "You're right, I don't have to."

Red glared at him, furious at his easily distracted bluntness.

"What?"

"That was just mean." Growled Red.

"What was?" The Wolf licked some drying icing off of the fur edging his mouth before sneezing violently and standing.

"You offered and then forgot about it just as quick."

"You said you didn't want it."

Red turned angry eyes to the floor.

"... I'm going to take the other cake, alright?" The Wolf lifted up the cake, careful not to make it fall from its plate.

"…Fine."

"And don't be mad… You don't eat when you're mad. If you don't eat, you'll be no kind of morsel I'd want to eat."

"So, if I starve myself, you wouldn't eat me?" Red put down her piece of cake.

"No, I'd still eat you, it's just you wouldn't be as filling." The Wolf smiled at her before scurrying out of the room.

* * *

In the middle of the night, Red woke up, thirsty, and stumbled out of her room towards the kitchen. When she entered, she stopped, blinked at the sight of the Wolf, and then staggered to the counter. Finding a glass, she poured some water from the pitcher, drank it down, and then turned, her eyes watering with weariness. 

As she passed the Wolf, she paused to glance over him. He was sleeping on the chair, a half-dissected goose in front of him. Both of his clawed hands rested on his belly, as did his feet on the table. His tail wagged slowly in a dream.

Head tilted back, mouth lolling open to expose yellowed teeth and send out rank breath, the Wolf snored in his sleep, his grunts interrupting the long growls. As Red started to stumble back for the door, he snorted before turning in the chair, looping his arm around the chair's back, and sniffled back to sleep.

Red froze before slowly backing up, glancing him over, and reaching forward. Her hand brushed his pants before she made her way to his pocket. She gently dug her fingers in, felt the hard metal of the key ring. She tugged it out.

The Wolf snorted, wrenched to the side, and then hung his head down to the side, snoring softly once more.

Weariness gone, Red smiled broadly as she grabbed the keys to keep them from jingling on the ring. Creeping out of the kitchen and down the hall, she came to the locked door, unlocked it, and snuck through. She did not bother to lock the door.

She instantly turned to the right, knowing the disgusting dead end to the left. She scurried along, came to a door in the left wall. Curious, frantic, she tried it.

It opened up to stairs that led down. Red sighed, only having discovered the basement, turned, was about to continue, when she heard a dull whimper from below. She froze, glanced back, and then started down the steps, nosy.

There were seventeen steps in all, she counted, that leveled off to a cold, stone floor. She glanced around, searching for whatever made the noise, and saw the door, cracked open slightly, allowing a dull glimmer of light to peer through. She crept to it, opened it slowly.

The next moment, she froze and stared in amazement.

The dusty white carpet was scattered with little toys, most soft cloth ones. The walls, painted a garish bluish-gray, was peeling slightly. A misshapen chair, one of the legs obviously having been broken in the past, sat in the corner, being used as a small shelf for little, torn-up books. Across the room was a small window where dark light filtered in, a gift from the stars and moon outside. The smell of slight rot shoved up Red's nose, making her snort in disgust.

The covers of the little bed in the farthest corner rustled, making Red squeak in surprise. A small wolf, a soft blondish-gray-white, sat up, glanced around with large black eyes. "Papa?" He held out his small paws, felt at the air.

Red stared, blinking, as she surveyed the little wolf. His coat was rough and mangy, his frame skinny and underfed. His hands held a small tremor.

"Papa…? I finished my birthday present…" sniffled the small wolf, moisture welling up in his eyes as he felt around for the small plate Red had place the second cake upon. Holding it up, he whispered, "Will you please read me a story…? It's been so long that you've read me a story…"

Red slowly stepped forward, noticing the little wolf's blank eyes stare off in her left as his ears twitched as they tried to pinpoint the sound of her footsteps. Glancing in her general direction, the child smiled softly and rasped, trying to restrain a dry sob, "Papa…?"

Red took the plate, watched the little wolf pup relax. Snuggling back down into his covers, the little wolf whispered, "… Story?"

Gulping, Red licked her dry lips and said softly, "What's your name?"

The little wolf stiffened, his blind eyes shivering with surprise. Sitting back up, he found the little wolf toy, the one Red had fixed only a few days before, and whispered fearfully, "Who's there?"

Red took a deep breath, wondering what the heck she was doing, "Um… I'm… I'm…"

The little wolf listened to her voice before asking in wonder, "Are you a _girl_?" He said the word 'girl' as one would say the name of a mythical creature, layered with disbelieving awe.

"Yes."

The little wolf shivered with pleasure as he smiled toothily. He had sharp, pearly white teeth. "Did God send you?"

Surprised, Red stared at him before squeaking, "What?"

"Before she went away, Momma told me that God sent girls with wings if you were a good boy…" said the little wolf eagerly, blinking rapidly, "And if they touched you, you'd get all better!" He leaned forward.

Red saw his tail wag weakly underneath the covers. Relaxing, she sighed, "Well… I can't say that I'm one of those… Are you sick?"

The little wolf ignored her question, reached out, and whimpered, "Will you let me touch you?"

Slowly, Red neared the bed, and the small paws found her arm. Stilling, the wolf blinked as he felt the skin, intent of the texture, the little hairs that brushed against his. Red shivered inadvertently as she sensed his weakness, his shuddering, deteriorating muscles.

Finally, the little wolf let go. He said softly, "Thank you…"

"You're welcome…" Red sat on the edge of the bed, seeing the wolf's fur poof up as he felt the already broken mattress tilt towards her.

Sniffling, he found her hand, hugged it to his chest, "So… What's it like in heaven?"

"I'm not from heaven."

"Where are you from then?" said the little wolf, obviously disappointed.

Red thought about this before saying, "Outside."

The little wolf mused over this for a moment before letting go of her hand, snuggling under his covers till only his snout showed, and whispering, "Why are you in here then?"

"… Your father… kind of…"

"He's been a bad papa again, hasn't he?" asked the little wolf solemnly again, his head disappearing under the blanket.

"Yes." Sighed Red.

Shuddering, the little wolf reappeared, the lopsided patchwork wolf toy in his dull claws. He held it up, "This is Bunny."

"… But it's a wolf."

"But he lives with the bunnies." Defended the little wolf, hugging his toy, "He lives with them in the forest and he doesn't eat them, 'cause I had a bunny as a pet once and they're my friends too!"

"How old are you?" Red asked, curious, smiling. This wolf was innocent and cute.

The wolf dropped his toy, held out his fingers, and counted off seven before holding it up proudly. "This much! Papa taught me how to count to all my birthdays! Oh, and he brought me a yummy cake thing today and sang a happy birthday to me!" He flopped back onto his pillows, nearly melting with happiness. "And now I have another birthday present! I have a _girl_!" He clapped his hand excitedly.

Red laughed, her eyes edging to the window. How tantalizing did the stars and moon look at the moment! She could afford to spend time with this little wolf, however… Just a few minutes more, perhaps.

"Are you going to stay for long?" asked the little wolf, as if he had sensed her eagerness to leave.

"…Probably not."

"Why not?"

"'Cause I need to get away from your father."

"… Is he going to eat you like the other girls? He's always saying that girls are yummy… I would never eat a girl!" The little wolf placed a hand against his chest, affronted by the very thought before adding, "I don't think I could swallow one of you down anyways."

Red grimaced. "I hope that never changes."

"I know… But papa likes little girls… And children too. He says they're easy to capture and eat… But I'll eat all the chickens and geese and-"

"Well, thank you." Muttered Red, standing up.

Hearing the shuffle of cloth, the little wolf sat up and squeaked, "You're going to go?"

"I have to get out of the house, go through the woods, which I'm sure is where we are, and then get back to town, all before your father can wake up and come after me."

"Ah… But do you have to leave now…?" The wolf found her arm, pulled himself to the side of the bed, and put a clawed hand onto her shoulder. "I haven't talked to anyone for such a long time… Papa doesn't talk that much…"

"But I really have to go."

"… Can I come then…? I just need my crutches and you as a guide? Just till the front door or something?"

"Fine… Where are your crutches?" asked Red, glancing about.

"Under the bed."

Red bent, reached under the bed, found the crutches, and stood before freezing. The wolf had shoved down his covers, exposing his legs.

They turned small and shriveled from where they sprouted out of his shorts. The fur did nothing to hide the small, lacy veins that throbbed under the skin exposed between the patches of sickly fur. Moaning, he pulled his legs up with his hands, felt for the edge of the bed, and then let them drape over. He smiled, held out his hands, "Crutches?"

As Red handed them to him, she asked with a shiver, "What happened to your legs?"

"… I… don't know… I just got sick one day and my legs started to hurt a lot. I can still use them, it's just that I need some help." The pup grasped his crutches, planted them in the carpet, and then struggled up. When Red grabbed his shoulder, helped him balance, he muttered, "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

With a slight hobble, the little wolf used his crutches to limp forward. "Tell me if I'm going to crash into something."

"Wait! You're going to hit the wall!" Red grabbed him back.

"Oh, thank you." The wolf turned to her and smiled somewhere off to her right.

Red giggled before asking, "What's your name?"

"Peter."

"Mine's Marie, but you can call me Red."

"I like your name." commented Peter happily.

* * *

It took an excruciatingly long time for Peter to hobble up the stairs. He fell to his knees several times, his legs weak with inexperience. 

When they had finally reached the top of the stairs, Red led the stumbling Peter down the hall. They finally found the front door after five minutes of passing it several times, and, when Red tried to unlock it, she found with dismay that there was no key to the door.

"How does your father get out?" she asked helplessly, staring up at the door as Peter sat down behind her, shivering from overexertion.

"Don't know… Are you hungry? I'm hungry…" Peter rubbed at his stomach.

"No." Red snorted, angry that the door would not open for her.

"Are you… mad at me?" whispered Peter, staring in the direction of her voice as he fidgeted with his fingers.

"No, of course not!" Turning, Red patted him on the head, trying to rid herself of the anger that throbbed at her head now that her only plan to escape had been thwarted.

Peter moaned, pushed his head up against the caressing hand, "Ooh… That feels good… Keep doing it…"

For the next five minutes, Red petted Peter, moving steadily down from the wolf's head to his chest and finally to his stomach.

Groaning with pleasure, Peter writhed on his back, his legs making involuntary, quirky jerks. He mumbled happily as she finally withdrew her fingers, "Oh… That was nice…" He rolled to his side, found her knee, and hugged it awkwardly as he yawned. "I'm sleepy…"

Red ran his fingers through one of the mangy patches of hair. "Well… I guess I'm stuck here with you… You want me to help you back down to your room?"

"…No… I'm fine…" Peter sniffled at her knee, licked her skin, and then wagged his tail weakly, "Will you just stay here till I fall asleep? Or tell me a story…?"

Red smiled, bent, and blew on his nose, "Of course."

* * *

As soon as Peter fell asleep on the dusty rug in front of the main entrance, Red tiptoed back into the other half of the house, locked the door in between, snuck back to the Wolf, and managed to slip the keys back into his pocket without waking him. Exhausted, she went back to her room and fell asleep. 


	12. Sleepover

The next morning, the Wolf shook Red awake, stomach grumbling. He whispered, "I'm hungry… Make me something…"

"Urmph…" Red curled up in her blanket.

"If you don't come right now, I'll try to cook and burn everything. C'mon…. Just something little…?"

* * *

Red ended up making a huge breakfast for the Wolf using some of the leftover goose and the random ingredients he had gotten her before. He devoured the rest of the eggs with relish, gobbled down half of the cooked goose meat, and drained a full quart of milk before he was even beginning to be satisfied.

He glared at the plate with the other half of the goose meat on it, tapping his stomach, obviously tempted to eat it. However, Red could tell he was thinking about Peter and whether or not he should take this meal to his son.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" the Wolf muttered, breaking Red out of her reverie.

"Huh? What?"

"You're looking at me like I'm a good person," Said the Wolf uncomfortably, "Like you approve of me and are happy for me. Why?"

"… No reason." Red replied slyly.

He glared at her, "You're hiding something."

"And if I am?"

The Wolf bared his teeth, "I'll beat you if you put something into my breakfast!" His hand went to his stomach.

Red smiled faintly. So the first thing that came to his mind was that she might have tried to poison him… "You really think I would do that? What would I poison you with?"

The Wolf glared at her for a few moments before sniffing and standing, "Fine… You haven't poisoned me…" Glancing at her with narrow eyes, he hissed, "But I will find out what you're hiding from me!"

Red watched him pick up the plate with goose meat, waited till he was at the door before asking smugly, "Where are you taking that?"

"… It's a snack… for later…" He mumbled.

* * *

Only a few minutes later, the Wolf stood at her door again, eyeing her suspiciously, hand straying to his pocket every few seconds to make sure his key ring was still there. "…Red…?"

Red glanced up at him and smiled, "Yes?"

"… Did… you go into my part of the house?" the Wolf seemed unsure. "… Um… I… found things…" He was trying to avoid mentioning Peter.

"Yes."

The Wolf stared at her, chewed his lip, and then whispered, "So… You met… Peter?"

"Yes."

The Wolf sighed, crept to her, and sat down. Fidgeting with his fingers, he asked, "… And… what did you think of him?"

"Peter? I think he's sweet… unlike his father…" Red cast an angry glare at the Wolf.

The Wolf glared at the floor before asking, "And… I can only guess that you saw his legs… He wouldn't have just wandered about on his crutches without someone to help him…"

"Yes… It's so sad… What happened? He said he got sick and-"

Slumping, the Wolf murmured, "When I was going around trying to find a good doctor who could staple me shut and not give me an infection, my… mate left me… and she left Peter, too… And I had no idea, since I was stuck to a God-forsaken bed… And, when I finally came home, I was expecting a big welcome from my family… Instead, my mate is gone and Peter…" The Wolf stayed silent for a moment before whispering, "Dying. She locked him in a room and left him there…"

Red stared at the Wolf before sputtering, "That's awful!"

"… Don't worry… I tracked her down and killed her…" The Wolf shook his head.

"… That's awful too!"

"… She deserted me and left my son for dead… I think she deserved it." The Wolf pursed his lips before muttering, "Peter wants to see you… And now that you know about him… Well, would you like to see him?"

"Sure."

The Wolf smiled softly, stood, and crept out the door.

* * *

Ten minutes later, the Wolf reappeared, a quivering Peter held effortlessly in his arms. Smiling broadly, he set him down onto the carpet, whispered, "Peter…"

Peter's wide, blank eyes travelled around before he sniffled, "Where's the girl, papa?"

Red crawled over, touched a finger to his shoulder, "Right here."

Peter recoiled under her touch violently before relaxing. Staring at her face, not knowing whether or not it was there, he asked, "Are you the same girl from last night?"

The Wolf tapped him upon the head and snickered, "Of course she is, silly! She's also going to make us lunch, aren't you, Red?" He shot a glare at Red, telling her this would not be a good time to contradict him.

"You just ate… But… Fine…Of course."

* * *

Peter felt blindly for the fork with his right hand as his left hand held the plate, full of cut up chicken. Finally finding the utensil, he put the fork tip to his left finger, put his left finger to a piece of chicken, and then slid the fork down to the meat before stabbing it viciously. The Wolf watched with sad, milky eyes as his son brought the fork towards his mouth, keeping both hands on the fork lest he miss the target or drop the little cube of meat.

The Wolf grumbled, glanced at his own half of a chicken, and, taking it, swallowed it down whole before returning his gaze to Peter.

Red was chewing at a carrot, watching Peter with interest. For the next five minutes, she watched, saw he ate slowly, meticulously, savoring every little bite that actually made it to his lips.

Halfway through, Peter paused, glanced around blindly, and whispered, "Papa?"

Instantly, the Wolf leaned forward and put a comforting paw on his son's shoulder. "Yes?"

"Where's the girl?"

"Across from you."

The little wolf smiled before finding the edge of his plate, holding it up, and offering, "Marie, do you want some?"

"No, I'm fine, but thanks for offering." Red glanced with distaste at the little pink cubes of raw chicken.

Peter turned in his seat towards his father, proffered the plate once more, "Papa?"

"Why don't you eat it all yourself?" said the Wolf lovingly, ruffling his son's fur. "That way, you can grow big and strong."

Sniffling, Peter slowly turned back towards the table, started to set down the plate. However, he set it down on the edge, and, when he let go, it went plummeting to the ground. At the sound of the cracking glass, Peter froze before using the chair to slide himself down. Restrained sobs cracked his voice, "D-don't worry… I-I'll clean it up…"

Red jumped up to help, but the Wolf was already bent down besides his son. Softly, he tugged him up, used his arms to support him, and whispered, "It's okay."

Peter burst into sobs, "But I broke it, papa! I broke it!"

Red stared before remembering the tremor in Peter's hands, the crackling in his voice the night before when he had been holding the plate out to who he thought was his father. Was he scared of the Wolf? If so, why did he cling so desperately into the Wolf's coat at the moment?

The Wolf patted his shoulder, "Don't worry, Peter… I do it all the time…"

"… But you can clean it up afterwards…" sniffled Peter into his father's fur, spreading snot against the fine, gray hairs. "… I can't do anything…"

The Wolf sighed, "You can… Don't worry."

Peter just cried.

* * *

After a few minutes of comforting, Peter finally calmed down and asked hesitantly if he could sleep upstairs this time. The Wolf was reluctant, but between Peter's tears and Red's glares, he finally gave in.

Appearing at the doorway with several heavy blankets, the Wolf stiffly stepped in, bent to deposit them, and then laid down with a growl, "Can't believe I'm actually going to allow this."

Peter sat in the corner, wide-eyed, ears twitching, "You don't have to sleep with us, papa."

"… And what am I going to do if Red decides she wants to cut you open?" snarled the Wolf.

"… Marie wouldn't do that…" said Peter sullenly.

Red glowered at the Wolf as he spread out the blankets, bunched two of them up to make a pillow, and flopped down. "… Peter is in between us. I don't want to sleep next to you."

"Fine." Muttered the Wolf angrily.

Red reached over, helped Peter over onto the blankets, and then watched as he oriented himself so he was comfortable. When she laid down, Peter reached out, found her shoulder, and cuddled close, moaning happily. "You're warm…."

The Wolf, who was laying as stiff as a board, slowly glared over before pulling Peter back, "I'm warm too, and less dangerous."

"…And furry…" Peter snuggled down into the fur, crooning his sleepy joy.

* * *

That night was an odd one. Once he fell asleep, the Wolf rolled all over the place, jerking in his sleep, making small huffing yelps, and then making the most unusual sighing noises that Red ever heard. Peter was just content in placing his head in the crook of her arm, curling up against her, and shivering until her body warmth warmed him.

The next morning found Red waking up next to Peter. Yawning, she glanced over at him, saw he was licking her forearm, and asked wearily, "What are you doing?"

Peter glanced up from her arm, his tongue still out and a light pink, "… You have salt…. I like salt…" Peter resumed licking her skin.

Red sighed, sat up, and glanced over to see the giant mass of fur that was the Wolf curled up on a blanket. The top of the 'mountain' shuddered as it lifted and descended, showing the ragged breaths that Red could hear. "Did he crush you last night? I'm sure that, at some point, he rolled onto me."

Peter nodded solemnly, using her shoulder as a guide as he struggled to sit. "He crushed me and went over onto you."

"…Ow…" Red sighed.

It was then that the Wolf started to sniffle awake. Uncurling, he glanced around with blood-shot eyes before groaning, "No…."

Peter's ears perked, "Papa?"

Slinking over to Peter, the Wolf leaned against him weakly, "Oh… Peter… I think I'm sick…"


	13. Two Brothers

The Wolf had come down with a fever and a runny nose overnight, plus the extra feeling of vomiting every other thirty minutes.

Peter gently found his father's ear with a hand and stroked it, "It's okay, papa…"

The Wolf just groaned, shivering under every blanket that Red had been able to find in the house.

Red peered in, eyes narrowed, "You have no more water."

The Wolf moaned, "I… need water…"

"Is there a river nearby? We need to go get some… And you need to let me have the keys."

"… You'll… run away…"

"Is that better than you suffering? I promise I'll bring water back."

"Promises… are moths."

"Huh?"

"… The keys to the… front door are in my bathroom… Little cupboard… in a little ring box…"

* * *

Red glared at Peter, who hobbled alongside her on his crutches, "Did you really have to come?"

Peter would have been reeling with excitement if he hadn't needed his two crutches, "Of course! I haven't been outside since momma went away! Oh! I smell flowers!" He hurried over, travelling more quickly than Red thought him able.

The forest floor was rather flat, covered with red, orange, and brown leaves. Every so often, a green leaf would appear, buried in a mass of its fire-colored brethren. Around them stood tall oaks and redwoods, proud and wise with age. Moths and butterflies lay flat against the bark of the trees, fanning their wings as they rested.

Red glanced down at the two water pails at her side, "So… River?"

"Water?" Peter was on his knees, feeling through a patch of flowers. "I have no idea. When I was littler, it was straight out from the door of our house. Walk a few minutes. You're there." Peter disappeared under the flowers, making the long-stemmed plants tremble as he laid down among them. A couple of butterflies flitted up, annoyed at this creature who lay upon their flowers.

"Peter?" Red came to the flowerbed, saw him laying quietly on his back, staring up at the sky.

"What color is the sky today, Marie?"

"Blue. Why?"

"Oh…It smells of rain. Maybe we can just wait and set the pails out and collect rain water. Or maybe that's just me…"

"That'd take a long time. Better to find a river."

"Oh…"

Red was about to bend to help him up when she heard a small chuckle from behind. Whirling around, squeaking, she saw a tall, orange creature standing in the carved away part of a redwood. "Who's there?"

Orange fur slick where she could see it, the Fox took a step into the light, bowed. His handsomely tailored suit, made just for him, thrust away the image of a cheap forest-dweller, but captivated any viewer with the feeling that this was a sly creature, one that should be regarded with suspicion. He fluttered his golden eyes at Red as he lilted, "And how might I find the Little Red Hood with the son of her enemy?" He laughed softly, rejoicing at an inner joke.

Red sighed with relief. The Fox may be a crafty creature, able to weasel people out of hard-earned money or poultry, but he was a generally good-hearted and humble individual. "Oh… The Wolf's sick, so we're getting him some water.""Oh, that's nice. Is that where have you been all this time, Little Red? With the Wolf? The whole town is in an uproar…" The Fox eyed her, pondering how much men would be willing to pay for Red's return.

Peter sat up, ears perked, before asking, "Cousin?"

"How are you doing, Peter?" inquired the Fox kindly.

"I'm fine. This is Marie." Peter pointed up at Red, or so he thought. In reality, he pointed to a tree, Red a bit more to the right of his finger.

"Ah… Is she your friend, Peter?"

Peter bobbed his head up and down happily.

"And is your father really sick, or is Little Red a kidnapper? Red, I wouldn't have ever guessed!" The Fox shook his head in mock sadness, laughing at his own little joke.

Peter pursed his lips, "Father's really sick!"

"Of course." The Fox smiled and faded back into his little cave before whispering, "For the river, just keep walking in that direction…" He pointed to his left.

* * *

They reached the river, filled the buckets, and started back quickly. Peter hummed deep in his little throat, smiling widely. Red held both of the pails of water, watching him.

"It's a nice-feeling day." Peter commented after Red hurriedly warned him that he was about to hit a tree.

"It is."

"… Kind of weird that papa would get sick today, isn't it?"

"People get sick all the time."

"But-" Peter stopped, paused, glanced back, and asked, "Did you hear something?"

Red turned, listened, and nodded, "Singing?"

"Could we hide? I really don't want to mess with any hunters… Papa said they'd take my pelt…" Peter shuddered in terror.

Red hurried to him, helped him over to a bush quickly, and they both ducked down.

The voices grew louder:

_"Atchoo, atchoo, atchoo!_

_Look who's stuck in the flue!_

_Three little pigs, all shiny and new, _

_Below, if you can only move!_

_Atchoo, atchoo, atchoo!_

_Take out your hanky new!_

_You know the one you hid in your shoe!_

_That is what makes you so shrewd!_

_And the house goes down! Atchoo!_

_Atchoo, atchoo, atchoo!_

_Take up the prey, you__ prude!_

_If you didn't, that'__d be rude!_

_So say thank you_

_And push it__ down and__ through! _

_And the house goes down! Atchoo!"_

The owner of the voices, two lanky black wolves, strolled into the clearing. Between them, they held a squirming rucksack bag, which they kept captive as they sang cheerfully.

The one to the left took a deep breath, about to start another stanza of the song, when the one to the right said, "Let's switch songs."

"To which one?" The one to the left stopped, gazing to the right.

"I don't know… You choose."

Peter stopped shivering against Red, stiffened, and then whispered, "Marquis?"

Red glanced at him and asked quietly, "You know them?"

"They're my big brothers. They must be throwing a surprise visit! Marquis! Jhonen!"

Marquis and Jhonen paused, glanced at the trees, the ground, and then at each other. "Did you hear that?" asked the one to the right.

Peter used the bush to pull himself up, leaned on one crutch as he waved his hand frantically, "Over here! It's Peter!"

Marquis and Jhonen smiled, turned, and dragged themselves and their bag over. Stepping around the bush, the one who had been to the left scooped up his little brother and hugged him to his well-rounded belly, "Peter, how are you- Wow… You're hunting?" He had seen Red.

"Marquis! That's Marie!"

"… Otherwise known as Little Red Riding Hood, I could hazard to guess?" muttered Marquis, eyeing Red suspiciously.

Red flinched, wishing she had left her red cloak behind. "…Yes…"

Jhonen, the one who had been to the right, leaned over, glanced at her, and mumbled, "Want to split her, Marquis? I'm hungry."

"I already ate. You can have her."

Peter flailed in Marquis's arms, "No! No! She's- She's papa's!" Red could tell from his voice that he was just trying to find an excuse to save her.

"Then why is she out here and not strung up in that bleeding room of his?" Jhonen stalked forward, the bag still in his hands. Squatting down, he sniffed at her face before licking his lips, "She smells… delicious…"

Red shivered as Peter screeched, "No! No! No! Don't touch her!"

Jhonen chuckled, stood, and then opened the top of the bag to glance down inside, "Well, if she's papa's, then I guess I get papa's present!"

Peter stiffened before sniffling, "… What's… that?"

"We caught two girls down at the river. Marquis ate his little brat already, but I was going to give mine to Papa, 'cause he needs it more. But… if Papa already has a morsel…" Jhonen tapped his belly thoughtfully.

"Papa's sick."

"Oh… Then I guess I should save this for him… He needed water, I can guess?" Jhonen scrunched the mouth of the sack back together, glanced over Red and her pails of water.

* * *

With Jhonen and Marquis to help carry the pails, the return trip back to the Wolf's home was short and quick. The moment they reached the house, Jhonen and Marquis took the squirming bound and gagged girl to the bleeding room, trussed her up, and left her hanging upside down as they scurried through the open door that led to the windowless part of the house. Sullen, Red led Peter after them, wishing she could free the little girl the wolf brothers had caught for their father.

They found the Wolf in Red's room, curled up under his blankets, shivering through his fever. Jhonen and Marquis dove under the blankets, cuddled up to their father, and slowly and gently woke him.

"Mmrph…." The Wolf groaned into the blankets, shuddering as Jhonen nuzzled up to his neck.

"Come on, papa… We didn't come to visit just to watch you sleep…"

Softly, Marquis took the Wolf's shoulders into his hands, pushed the end of thumb softly into the muscle. The Wolf stiffened before melting with pleasure. Eyes flickering open, he saw Jhonen in front of him, smiled weakly, "You came for your sick father?"

Leaning over his father so he could make eye contact, Marquis bent, nosed his father's snout, "Of course. We need to make sure your shot-up defenses don't make you any sicker."

"Ah… That's nice…" The Wolf struggled up, looped an arm across the shoulders of each of his older sons, and hugged them before groaning, "Please… I need water…"

* * *

After drinking both pails of water dry, the Wolf fell back to sleep. Marquis and Jhonen took every pail they could find in the house, took a trip back to the river, filled them, and brought the pails, full of water, back.

Then, eager to have time with their family, they heated some water over the stove till it was boiling hot, hurried it to the bathroom, and filled the bath. Then, undressing, they stripped a protesting Peter down, threw him in, and quickly followed him.

Red, who had no idea where the three wolf children had disappeared to, walked in on them, shrieked, turned, ran out. This sent the two older wolves into hysterics, while Peter sat sullenly in the middle of the tub.

Then, when they were finished, the two now-naked older wolves towed a nude, screaming Peter down the hall, laughing. "C'mon, Peter! We're just going to dress you!"

"Let me go! Let me go!"

Red hurried into the kitchen, the only safe place to hide from their nakedness.

* * *

After they had dressed Peter and stolen some of their father's clothes, the two wreaked havoc across the house, especially in the kitchen. Finding Red, they demanded food. Hesitant and nervous, Red offered to make soup, but they demanded meat.

Finally, Red scurried down to Peter's room to seek refuge with the little wolf, where his older brothers had left him, to find him silent and sobbing.

That night, the Wolf woke up and, with the help of his two older sons, cut the throat of their 'present'. He then proceeded to drink the blood that spilt out, his weak body savoring it, basking in the energy it gave back to him. Red, disgusted, stayed down in Peter's room.

That night, Jhonen and Marquis, dragging the dozing Wolf behind them, stole in and saw Red and Peter curled up next to each other on the bed. Giggling to each other quietly, they dragged the Wolf up, took up some of the space for themselves, and then fell asleep.

The next morning, the Wolf was laying over all of them, snoring softly. Peter and Red awoke with squeaks of indignant discomfort, while Jhonen and Marquis slipped out and made jokes about their father and their trapped brother and the Little Red Riding Hood. Finally, they dragged their father off and helped Peter up.

Red watched them take Peter out, carrying him between them. After two hours of flitting about the forest, they returned, bloated and happy. Even Peter, whose scrawny frame had told his tale of sickness and not enough food, was full.

Poking at his rounded stomach, eyes blinking as they tried to envision what he looked like, Peter squeaked, "Marie! Guess what I ate!"

Red glanced over his little abdomen, which was obviously full, and pursed her lips, "What?"

"I had fish!"

Behind him, Jhonen and Marquis giggled insanely. Jhonen saw Red's glare, came over to her, and whispered, "Me and Marquis split the fisherman."

Red glowered at him, huffed, led Peter away.

With Jhonen and Marquis around, the house became chaotic. The Wolf recovered slowly, sleeping a lot, so the two would go to hunt for him, bringing back young children for him to drain the blood from. They also took over disposing of the body.

* * *

**OOC:... Will be continued...**


	14. Seen

Detective Pinocchio glared down at the two little girls, laid side by side carefully, appearing to be doing nothing more than dozing if the awful cut across their necks had said anything different. The flickering oil lamp overhead illuminated the ground for the policeman to see. He groaned, turned towards his lieutenant, "He's augmenting."

"Yes… Seems he's had lots of luck with the hunt lately… Five girls in the last three weeks… Awful, isn't it?" The first officer penned down information about the two cadavers before sniffing, "Kind of weird that their arms are chewed up like that."

"… The guy must have an animal, or be an animal himself…" Pinocchio bent, glanced over the girls, and then stiffened when he saw a little tangle of black hair in the clenched hand of one of the girls. Slowly, he pulled it out, inspected it, "… Looks like… long fur?"

"Most of the animals who live in-town like being short-furred… I know my Dalmatian friend, the one who heads the fire department, loves to keep his fur two inches at least. And-"

Puffing, another police officer scurried up, swallowed down a few gasps of the cool, night air, and rasped, "Problem on Elm."

"What?" asked Pinocchio with little interest.

"Two wolves wandered in from the forest, bothering Missus Ellsworthy, and-"

The first officer glanced up at the officer with a curious glitter in his eyes, "Mrs. Ellsworthy? Funny, huh, sir? We were just talking about her husband, that Dalmatian, and how short his fur-"

The policeman sputtered, "Aw, shut it up already, Jack! There's these two bliddy huge black wolves trying to seduce Missus Ellsworthy and you want to talk about fur?"

Pinocchio froze, turned, "What color did you say their fur was?"

"Black, sir. Black as midnight."

* * *

"Aw… C'mon, sugar… It's only a night." Cooed Jhonen, pressing up close to the trembling Mrs. Ellesworthy, whose golden fur was standing on end as she stared at this wolf who lusted after her.

"I'm-I'm married." She stammered.

Marquis sighed, "Jhonen… Come on… We don't have time for this…"

Putting his hand on Mrs. Ellesworthy's hip, tracing the contours of the black and white skirt, Jhonen cooed, "She fluffed her tail up just for me… You saw it… Wagging just for me… Of course we have time for this…" He leaned forward, licked Mrs. Ellesworthy's snout lovingly.

Mrs. Ellesworthy burst into tears, slid down to the ground, "S-stop it! I'll- I'll scream! Just leave me alone! Just leave me alone!"

Marquis glared at Jhonen, "See? She doesn't want you. Stop it and let's leave!"

"… Ah… She's just being coy…" Jhonen squatted, caressed the golden retriever's blonde face.

A shadow fell across the alley's entrance, stopping the light from reaching the wolves and Mrs. Ellesworthy. Crossing his arms, Pinocchio growled, "What are you two doing?"

Marquis spread his arms wide, sighing, "You got me, officer… I'm standing by while I watch my brother make a fool out of himself. I said 'let's go', Jhonen!" Turning, Marquis kicked at his brother's rear.

Jhonen jumped up to glare at his brother, "Fine!" He made for the alley entrance, where Pinocchio still stood.

Pinocchio held up a hand, "I'm afraid you can't do that. I need to take you into custody to question you about the murders of two little girls and-"

Turning, Jhonen and Marquis raced for the other exit of the alley. As they ran, hearing the heavy footsteps behind them, Marquis hissed to his brother, "You just had to stay to fail wooing some bliddy lady!"

"It's not my fault!" whined Jhonen.

They barreled straight through the first officer, who popped out in front of them to stop them.

Seconds later, Pinocchio scrambled past his dazed first officer, hissing, "Get up! Get up!"

* * *

The minute Pinocchio stormed into the police station, furious that he had lost the wolves in the chase, he ordered loudly, "Someone pull me all the files on every wolf we know about! Now!"

The first officer, rubbing at his chest, followed at his side, "The files of every-… Sir? But why?"

"Those two wolf boys. We need to find out who they are."

* * *

Marquis and Jhonen came late that night, sullen. The Wolf, who had been waiting for them, glared at them angrily, "Where have you been?"

"… We got seen."

"Seen?" The Wolf eyed them suspiciously before asking worriedly, "Did you… get hurt?"

"No." Marquis sniffed. "But now the detectives knows it's a wolf… or two wolves … All because of Jhonen's lust."

"What?" The Wolf stared at Jhonen, who fidgeted nervously.

Licking his dry lips, Jhonen began to explain, "Well… There was this lady… and she puffed her tail out, just for me… and-"

"He was trying to seduce her when this wooden man comes out and tries to arrest us. We ran."

"Well…" The Wolf sighed. "I was hoping to see if they could figure out on their own. They do not pick up on things easily, those humans… Well, at least now they know what _species_…" Standing, the Wolf came over to Jhonen, patted him on the shoulder, and whispered, "What I'm more concerned about is that you're chasing women… Was it like last time?"

Jhonen remained quiet. Then, the Wolf glanced at Marquis, quirked an eyebrow. Sighing, Marquis muttered, "Yes… She was married…. And she wanted nothing to do with him."

The Wolf smirked, "Womankind: a mystery. Jhonen, just leave them alone."

"… Just because you had awful luck in marriage doesn't mean that you have to be angry that I'm not blighted by the same unluckiness."

"I'm not unlucky, and women are just bad creatures." Said the Wolf gruffly.

"….I wouldn't say so, papa…" muttered Jhonen miserably.

Marquis smiled softly, "So… Talking about women… Where is Peter and his delightful little morsel?"

* * *

Red and Peter sat on the little wolf's bed, surrounded by plush toys. Peter was playing the part of the calico wolf, while Red pretended to be the little, chewed-up bunny.

Bouncing her toy across the cover, Red bumped it against the toy wolf, "Rar! Bunny's going to get you!"

Peter sniffled, pushed his toy against Red's, "Not if I get you first."

"Got you!"

Peter crawled forward, felt for her arm, and then made his stuffed animal attack her arm. "I'll get you back!"

"Ah!" shrieked Red mockingly before slapping the stuffed animal at her friend's head. Peter dropped his plaything, tackled Red, and fell upon her. Red giggled as Peter's fingers found her armpits and started to wiggle. "No! No! No tickling!"

Peter stopped tickling her, sniffed, and slumped onto her with a moan, "… I'm hungry…"

"Do you want me to-"

Marquis and Jhonen bounded in, lunged for the bed, and squashed Red and Peter under their two bodies. Dragging Peter up, they cheered, "Little brother! Little brother!"

"Ah! Ah! You're crushing me! You're crushing me!" yowled Peter. "My tummy's going to explode!"

Marquis rolled off of them and then snorted, "Your stomach's going to explode?"

"I'm hungry, and you're squishing it!"

"You're hungry?" lilted Marquis. "Then… Jhonen!" He tugged Jhonen off of Peter and Red and smiled, "Come! Let's go take Peter hunting and-"

"Way ahead of you." Grabbing Peter, Jhonen rushed to the door, carrying his squeaking brother in his arms.

* * *

Jhonen, Marquis, and Peter were out for a whole hour before they came back. Peter was moaning, plagued by indigestion. Apparently, he had devoured five whole squirrels, which his stomach had not been expecting.

Crying on the bed as Marquis and Jhonen went into hysterics about his misery, Peter sobbed into Red's lap, "It hurts, Marie! It hurts!"

Red patted his head, glaring at the two older wolves, who leaned against each other for support as they laughed and laughed and laughed. "I'm sorry about that, Peter… Maybe if some people had been more _careful_…"

Jhonen managed to rasp through his choking laughs, "You got to be kidding, right, Peter? I mean, five little, itty-bitty squirrels and you have a stomach ache?"

Marquis tried to quench his laughter, failed. Through his joyous tears, he grated, "Oh…. Jhonen, we shouldn't laugh…"

They collapsed against each other, howling with laughter.

Red glanced back down at Peter, stroked his fur softly, "Don't worry… You'll feel better."

Pushing his head deeper into the cloth of her dress, Peter continued to sob.

"Peter… Stop cry-"

Peter's frame shuddered before suddenly tightening. Instants later, Red balked when she heard a small liquid wretch, felt something soak through her dress and onto her leg.

Peter stopped crying, shuddered, and then lifted his vomit-covered little face, tearing up, "Marie… I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

Red swallowed her disgust, forced a smile, and grated, "It's fine, Peter…" She willed herself not to look down on the vomit in her lap, fearing she'd see squirrel guts and parts.

Peter sniffled, slowly pulled himself to her side, and then hugged her arm, shuddering, "Please… please forgive… me…"

Red ruffled the fur atop his head and whispered, "I do."


	15. The Fox's Pointers

The Wolf glared as Red scrunched up her dress, opening the stove door with the intent to throw it in and burn the tainted cloth. "… So… Peter got indigestion and threw up on you?" In his arms lay Peter, who was curled up, asleep, and shuddering as the Wolf reassured him with soft stroking.

"… Yes." Red pushed the dress in, snapped the door shut, listened to the fire crackle as it began to feast upon the material.

"… And why wasn't it Marquis or Jhonen?"

"They were too busy laughing." Red glanced at the three pots of water on the stove, saw no imminent signs of boiling, and scratched at the long shirt she had borrowed from the Wolf's room to replace her dress.

The Wolf sighed, readjusted his hold on his littlest son, and began to softly twirl a claw around in Peter's sickly fur. "They think everything's a big joke… But I love how they stay together…. It gives me a sense of security that I don't have to worry about them…"

"Where did those two go, anyway?"

"Out and about…" muttered the Wolf.

"Well… at least we have some peace… I can wash myself off, and then you can get the throw-up off of Peter…" Red glared at the pots, wishing the boiling would start soon.

The Wolf watched her before sniffing, "Let me do Peter first."

"He's asleep. Let him sleep. I'm taking mine first."

"… I can wake him up, don't worry."

"Let him sleep. Just let me take the first bath."

* * *

Red had just dipped down into the hot water, sighing with satisfaction, when the Wolf came in, holding Peter. Ignoring Red's indignant squeaks to get out, he bent, gently sat Peter in the tub, and knelt at the side.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" hissed Red.

The Wolf smirked, not turning his head to look at her, "I'm not here to spy on you. Just here to clean up my son." Glancing around, he grabbed a soppy rag from the edge of the tub, the washcloth Red had been planning to use, and scrubbed softly at Peter's face.

Peter moaned in his sleep, tried to curl away from the sponge, but the Wolf gently held him still until he had cleaned all of the vomit from his son's fur. Rewetting the rag, he used it to wet Peter's ears before plopping it back down into the water, dragging a soaking Peter up out of the water, and cradling him in his arms, watching him lovingly.

Red huffed loudly, slid as far down as she could into the water, and glared up at him. "You're done cleaning him. Get out now."

"… Ah… Red…" The Wolf finally glanced at her, smiled at her flinch, and cooed mockingly, "You only like Peter?"

"Yes, I do! Now get out!"

Chuckling, the Wolf strolled from the room, Peter still dozing at his shoulder.

* * *

Pinocchio gazed wearily over the files of wolves, groaning. He hadn't slept for quite some time, and he wasn't about to let himself doze away when there were wolves out there trying to eat the people he was supposed to protect. Also, he was the only one in here, for all the others had left for home a long time ago… and his home was practically the police station…

With a sudden, angry surge of frustration, he slammed down the files. Why was it that there had to be so many darn black wolves?

He stood, moaned, and went for a cup of water, hoping the liquid would wake him up.

However, when he turned, he froze before hissing, "Who the heck are-"

The Fox stood at his desk, shuffling through the files with a look of interest on his face. Glancing up, he smiled brightly at the detective, "Ho hum! Just seeing whether you were closer or not." He turned away.

"Wait!" Pinocchio said hastily, causing the Fox to stop, glance back smugly. Coming close, he whispered, "You know something?"

"The whole operation, but I can't talk about it. I can only… point it out." Setting down the rest of the pieces of paper, the Fox waved four sheets of paper, baring his teeth in a sly grin. "Otherwise, I just think my cousins would kill me." He set down the papers.

Pinocchio pounced upon them, glanced over them, and then gazed up at the Fox in confusion, "There's a hospital report, a death certificate, and two prior run-ins… All for different people."

"Just because you only saw two of them doesn't mean the two others don't exist. Same with… let's say a butterfly…. You only see a side of the wings, but there are always the other sides."

"What? You're asking me to chase a ghost then?" Pinocchio waved the death certificate at him.

"Huh… You might find this a bit more useful." Digging into the pocket of his handsome suit, the Fox drew out a folded, crusty piece of parchment, unfolded it, and handed it to Pinocchio. "From one of the uncertified doctors of the forest. I had to steal this from him, so don't lose it."

Pinocchio glanced over it, wooden eyes growing wider and wider until he finally squeaked, "But… He's… He's… He died!"

"I'm afraid not, unless I've been sharing my properties with an imposter." Sniffed the Fox, stroking at his fur. "And I highly doubt that it is anyone other than the real Wolf."

"… Where is he? I can go and arrest him right-"

The Fox smiled softly, "I can just point out, but I can't tell you anything other than the two wolves," He pointed at the two papers that recorded former discord and chaos, "are his elder sons. This one," He let his finger trail down to the hospital record, paused, and then smiled lovingly, "is Peter… You must promise that nothing will happen to Peter or else I will take back this doctor's note." He hissed at Pinocchio, enforcing his threat.

"I promise!" squeaked Pinocchio, staring at the line of papers.

"Oh… and here…" The Fox drew out another piece of paper from his pocket, pushed it across the desk to Pinocchio. Without another word, he turned and wandered to and out the front door.

Pinocchio gazed after him before scooping up the paper, turning it over, and peering at it. A bright smile lit up his face.


	16. Hansel

The Wolf gazed at the large cat Jhonen and Marquis had brought for him before glancing at the two sons that leaned over his shoulder, eager for him to eat it. "Must I?"

Marquis nodded fervently, "You must eat something physical every once in the while. Otherwise, your stomach will never get strong, papa!"

"Yes…. But a cat? The last physical thing I had was half of a-"

Jhonen thumped his father gently on the head, "Papa, come on… Will you eat it for us?" He smiled brightly.

The Wolf chuckled, took up the cat, and swung it by its tail as he regarded it, "I didn't know they had domesticated cats out here in the woods."

"… It's from town. One of the stupid ones."

"Ah…" The Wolf licked his lips, took the cat into his mouth, and swallowed it down with no trouble whatsoever. Leaning back, he sighed, toyed with one of the staples that crossed the healing scar. "Well… If that goes with no problem… I'll be looking for dogs next, won't I?"

Jhonen nodded. "Then, you can eat Red Riding Hood, and you'll feel better about everything. We know how much you've despised her last-"

Marquis glared at him, "You better not let Peter hear you say that, or he'll throw a fit. Red's his friend, you know… I wouldn't want to hurt her, 'cause I'd hurt Peter in doing so."

The Wolf sighed, "I'll just tell him what I told him about his mother… That she went away and is living happily somewhere else…"

"It'll still make him sad." Snorted Marquis.

"Yes, but-"

Jhonen, Marquis, and the Wolf froze when they heard the knocker at the door. Glancing at each other, they narrowed their eyes.

The Wolf muttered, "… Who the heck would come here?"

"Maybe it's the Fox… He hasn't been around for a while… I'll get it." Marquis smiled, trooped out the door.

* * *

Humming softly as he went, Marquis passed Peter and Red. Peter sat sullenly on the carpet, flinching as Red combed out the small tangles in the patches of fur. Hearing someone pass, Peter glanced around, "Who's that?" 

Marquis paused, bent, and patted Peter's head, "It's Marquis."

"Are you going to get the door?"

"Yes. Papa still has the key in the bathroom, right?"

"I… think so…" mumbled Red, eyeing a big tangle angrily.

Marquis grinned, patted Red's head also. "Thank you, Red." He strolled down the hall, turned into the bathroom, and reemerged seconds later with a key in his hand. Now whistling, he jammed the key into the lock, twisted it open, and yanked the door open, "Hello. We're currently having a family reunion and-" He froze when he saw the one-shot musket pointed at him.

Next moment, a loud gun shot rang out, and Marquis crumpled.

Shrieking with surprise at the noise, Peter wrenched away from Red, "What's that? What's that?"

The hunter, a tan-faced man with a grim face, stepped in, pouring powder down the barrel of his musket before reaching for the box on his side that held the lead balls. Red squeaked, recognizing him.

Hansel glared down at her with emotionless blue eyes as he stalked forward. Red remembered their whispered story. A long time before her birth, Hansel and Gretel had been abandoned in the woods by their evil stepmother. After a close encounter with a child-eating witch, they had managed to find their way back to their father's house, where the stepmother was killed.

However, afterwards, Gretel had fallen ill with a sickness and had died, leaving her grieving brother Hansel to fall to shambles. Since his father had died a few months before, he had no one in the world left. The legend was that he cried for three straight days before his tears ran out. When he had left, Hansel had been silent, quiet, solemn, and, as most of the townspeople rumored, suicidal. However, five years after his sister's death, he had returned, a dark shadow who never talked unless he felt inclined to, a successful hunter who killed his prey without emotion, a man who had lost his mind years before.

Hefting up his musket, Hansel leveled it at Peter, who cowered against the carpet, shivering. "No! No! No! Not that noise! Not that noise!"

Red leapt up, grabbed the barrel, and pushed it away just as it went off. Screaming, she reeled back, staring at her red, burning hands. The barrel had heated up with the blast.

Hansel shoved her away, hissing through his teeth, his glacier eyes narrowed. Reloading his musket, he snapped it shut just as the Wolf sprinted round the corner. Pausing, the Wolf stared before roaring in fury and racing forward. Behind him, Jhonen peeked out, saw Marquis on the ground, and ducked back into the kitchen with a frightened squeak.

Taking a calm step back to steady himself, Hansel brought up his gun and shot.

The bullet didn't even faze the Wolf, whose wild eyes glittered angrily as he ran right through the impact to slam into Hansel.

The next moment, Hansel had somehow gotten out from under the Wolf, backed away as the Wolf stumbled up, snarling angrily. The musket lay on the ground, right in front of the Wolf, who didn't even seem to notice it as he locked furious eyes upon this hunter.

Hansel made to draw the large hunting knife at his side, but hesitated when he saw Jhonen speed around the corner, holding wet rags. Baring his teeth, he turned, leapt over Marquis, and raced for the tree line.

The Wolf and Jhonen instantly knelt at Marquis's side. Shuddering, trying not to sob, the Wolf pulled him up, pawed around in the fur, found the hole, and hurriedly urged Jhonen to stuff the rag in. At such close range, the musket had left a small crater in his chest, somewhat shallow, however.

Marquis had been quietly sobbing. At the touch of the rag, he squirmed, was about to scream, but the Wolf grabbed his muzzle, held it shut. A small, long squeak came from Marquis's throat as he screamed into his closed mouth, but, finally, he slumped against his father, crying.

The Wolf dragged him back, slammed the door shut with his foot, and quickly instructed Jhonen to lock it. Together, they lugged him down the hall, through the door that led to the sometimes locked part of the house, and laid him down on the couch.


	17. Hansel's Reason

Marquis slumped in and out of unconsciousness for the next hour before finally being able to stay awake. His cheery mood reappeared, and he began bothering Red and Jhonen for food.

"Red, I want soup. Will you make soup for me? And, Jhonen? Go get me water."

The Wolf smirked from his seat in the corner as he inspected the musket. He had thoroughly dismantled it and put it together again, just to calm his nerves as he waited for his son to recover. "Well, Marquis… Certainly better now."

"Never been shot before."

"I have. They hurt the first few times, but you get used to them."

Marquis grumbled before glancing about and asking, "Where's Peter?"

"… I put him in his bed." Muttered Red. "He was crying."

All three wolves' eyes rooted upon her. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Red fidgeted, glanced down at the dusty carpet, and mumbled, "What? Did I do something wrong?"

Marquis shook his head, "No. Actually…." He glanced back at the Wolf, scowled, "I think somebody owes someone else a big 'thank you' for saving his son."

The Wolf turned his head away, suddenly distracted, "Huh? Did you hear something? I think it sounds like the sound of," He glared at his son, "somebody stupid!"

"She saved Peter and you know it!" hissed Marquis.

Jhonen smiled, pounced upon Red, and embraced her, "There's my thank you. Now all you have to do is say something, papa. You don't have to touch her."

"…" The Wolf glowered at Jhonen, Marquis, and Red before standing, storming from the room as he growled under his breath.

* * *

That night, Pinocchio was sitting at his desk, shuffling through papers when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw the Fox glowering down at him, smiled, and greeted, "Hello. What are you doing-"

Suddenly, he lay on the floor. If he had been able to feel pain, not just the touch, he would have registered an ache across his left cheek where the Fox had slapped him. Shuddering with fury, the Fox hissed, "You said you wouldn't hurt Peter!"

"What?" Pinocchio stared up at him.

"You sent a bliddy hunter to his house with the map I gave you and he tried to kill Peter!" the Fox kicked Pinocchio angrily.

Pinocchio blinked before slowly shaking his head, "I don't know anything about any woodsman…"

"Then how did he have one of these?" Digging through his pockets, the Fox drew out a crumpled piece of paper, hastily sketched with charcoal. "I saw him take one of these out of his pocket and look at it!"

"I sent my men out today to scout, but they came back and said your map was useless and-"

"It's not bliddy drawn to scale, you fool! Any huntsman would know that!" yowled the Fox, clenching his hands into fists.

Pinocchio stood, "Well… We didn't send any hunter… I'm not sure how he got that… I could ask my men tomorrow morning, if you want."

"And I want you to chop the guy who gave that cursed hunter the chance to copy that map to bits!" The Fox shivered with anger.

* * *

Meanwhile, Marquis and Jhonen snuggled together on the couch while the Wolf slept in the corner. Downstairs, Red cuddled up to Peter, who had cried himself to sleep, and fell asleep next to the little wolf.

The morning dawned early and bright. Yawning, Red conversed with the already awake Peter for a few minutes before helping him slowly up the stairs.

The three older wolves were sitting at the table, talking softly. However, when Peter and Red came in, they stopped, gazed at them.

The Wolf stood up finally, came over to Peter, and bent to tickle at his son's chin, "Good morning, Peter… Do you feel like going on a little trip?"

Peter blinked, "What? A trip?" Instantly, his fur fluffed up with excitement. "Where?"

"… Remember where we lived before I built this?"

"Yes."

"We'll live there for a bit, till the hunter goes away, and then we'll come back, okay?"

"… Okay… Can I take some of my toys?"

"Of course." Crooned the Wolf before standing, latching his eyes on Marquis and Jhonen, and ordering, "We'll leave, agreed? I need one of you to get Peter's stuff, the other some food, and…" He glanced back at Red, eyed her, and then muttered, "A chain and collar for Red, and-"

Red squawked with anger, "I don't need a chain and a collar!"

The Wolf whirled on her, definitely grumpy. Jabbing a claw into her chest, he snarled, "I have been easy on you, Red! You should be locked up in that little room of yours, but no! You should have never met Peter! That way, he would have still been down in his room, playing with his toys, and not traumatized because of a hunter and his musket! And that hunter was here for you! He would have never come if you hadn't been here! I admit that I should have waited before kidnapping you, but this is all your fault!"

Red stared up at him before breaking into a fury. Poking a finger right back into his chest, she hissed, "And I would have never put you in any of those situations if you had never even followed me in the first place! You're an oversized glutton who is mean to little girls and little boys and doesn't care who or what he eats!"

"I'm not the one who cut open somebody else's stomach and filled it with stones before trying to drown them!"

"And I'm not the one whose very son is terrified of him!"

The Wolf froze, staring at her, pointer finger in the air, and then slowly turned to gaze at his little son, "Peter…?"

"Haven't you ever noticed he nearly always breaks into tears around you? He's either scared or he has some really bad problem with you!"

Peter trembled on his crutches, eyes filling up with tears. Reaching out, he whispered in a cracked voice, "Marie… Please…"

"See? He's scared that you'll be angry at him!" Red motioned at Peter furiously.

The Wolf reached out, put a hand on Peter's shoulder, and asked miserably, "Peter? You're not scared of me, are you?"Peter flinched away, tripped over his crutches, and then curled up on the floor. As the Wolf hurried to kneel beside him, to comfort him, he whispered, "… You let momma go away… You make all my friends go away… And I can't do anything anymore… You'll make me go away…"

Horrified, the Wolf stared down at his son before breaking into tears and, pulling his son up, embracing him tightly. "Peter! I'd never do that! You're my son! I don't care if you're sick or not!"

Peter's little hands curled up in his father's fur as the little wolf pushed his snout into the gray fur, "B-b-but I can't do anything!" He sobbed into the fur.

The Wolf stood, hurried out of the room with his son cradled in his arms.

* * *

Back in town, Pinocchio had just finished giving his explanation and sat, glaring over the heads of his officers. "… So… Who gave some God-forsaken hunter one of those maps I made for you?"

Guiltily, one of the officers raised his hand, tried to explain, "I wasn't finding anything, sir… And I saw Hansel and I asked him if he knew the-"

"Hansel?" Surprised, Pinocchio stared at the officer.

"Yes… He took a look at it, asked why we wanted to-"

Pinocchio slid off his desk, "Okay. Everyone just stay here… And no more recruiting hunters!"

* * *

Hansel lived a mile from the outskirts of town. His small cabin, slumping miserably to the side, deterred Pinocchio for a few minutes, who was disgusted by the state of the home. After a few moments, though, he heard some noise coming from around the back, crept to the corner, and glanced over.

Instantly, Hansel had his musket up, aiming at his head. Slowly, Pinocchio raised his hands, "Hello, Hansel… I'm Detective Pinocchio… and I'm here to ask-"

Hansel lowered his gun, his icy eyes burning furiously, "About the wolves?"

"Yes."

Hansel pursed his lips, turned, set down his musket, and took up an axe. Kicking over the thick piece of wood that he had been about to chop before he had been interrupted, he smirked, "I shot two."

Pinocchio flinched, "Are they-"

"No. They're alive… And they stole my gun…" Hansel swung down harshly at the log with the axe, grimaced as the blade sunk deep into the wood, and then yanked it out.

"… Well…" Pinocchio glanced uneasily at the musket that Hansel kept safely by his side as he continued to chop wood, "You don't seem to be in lack of one… May I ask why did you go after them in the first place?"

Hansel paused, glanced back at Pinocchio, and eyed him suspiciously, "Why… do you want to know?" His chillingly emotionless voice sent shivers up and down Pinocchio's wooden spine.

"I just… do…" Pinocchio took a step back without thinking.

Hansel smirked, wiped a hand through his sweaty, blonde hair, and then dropped the axe. He stalked quickly past Pinocchio, rounded the corner. By the time Pinocchio scurried around the corner, he was already in the house, pawing through the mess in search of something.

After a few moments, Hansel appeared at the door, a small square of wood in his hands. Stomping forward, he shoved it into Pinocchio's hands and growled, "Who is that?"

Pinocchio gazed down at a small portrait, one of a familiar girl. Furrowing his wooden eyebrows, Pinocchio glanced up and said, "That's Marie Landon… Red Riding Hood. The wolves killed her."

A glitter sparked into Hansel's eyes, "Are you sure? I saw her when I was there."

Pinocchio stared at Hansel, "You… She's _alive?_" He blinked before grinning with relief. "That's good!"

Hansel smiled softly, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a ragged piece of torn canvas. Pressing it to his lips, he kissed it and moaned before holding it out to Pinocchio. "And… This girl?"

Taking it, Pinocchio glanced at it before freezing. He gazed up at Hansel with confused eyes before asking, "You painted Red's portrait's hair blonde?"

"No!" Suddenly furious, Hansel grabbed back both portraits, clutched them to his chest, and whimpered, "That's my Gretel! My dear sister! She's back, but she forgot! I haven't forgotten though! She's still my sister! My beautiful," He turned the portraits' faces upwards, gazed down lovingly at them, and whispered, "little Gretel."

Alarmed, Pinocchio stared at him before muttering, "You can't truly mean that, Hansel. Gretel died. That's Marie Landon. She's not Gretel."

Hansel glared at him with hate-filled eyes before turning, stomping back into his cabin, and slamming the door shut.

Pinocchio sighed, spun about on his heel, and headed back for his horse.


	18. The Move

Red stared up at the high banking ceiling of the cave, amazed. Dark and slick-looking, the stalactites overhead seemed more like assorted chandeliers than dangerous spears.

The Wolf trod ahead over her, Peter asleep in his arms. He had been quiet since they had started walking, and he finally murmured, "This is where we used to live…"

"You mean you had to go through that waterfall every day?" Shocked, Red turned, gazed at the curtain of water that cascaded over the entrance of the cave. She shivered instinctively, her wet clothes clinging to her skin.

Behind her, Jhonen and Marquis, whose bandage now was rather translucent and sported a red splatter across the front, shivered violently. Jhonen nodded fervently, "Yes, and it was one of the reasons we asked Papa to build the house! Aw! It's so bliddy cold!" He stomped a paw down.

Marquis nodded miserably. "… But it gets so beautiful in here in Winter… Pretty soon, we'll be seeing ice towers and ice lace and-"

"Slipping every other step." Growled Jhonen. "Unless you're in the back."

Red instantly turned, hurried forward, "What's in the back?"

"Dry ground. No water gets back there at all, and it's very warm once you've filled it with blankets and stuff. There's also little side caves that we used as rooms… You'll get your own. _I_ sleep with Peter." The Wolf paused, glowered at her. "And I expect you to not try to escape. Otherwise, we put you in a collar and chain you to a wall."

"Fine, fine! I won't try to escape… Not that I know how to get back to town, anyways…" Red muttered the last part of her sentence under her breath.

The Wolf smirked, "I heard that."

"… Well… It's true…"

* * *

That night was spent squashing blankets into little nooks of the rock to make beds. The Wolf and Peter claimed the largest hole for themselves, stole several blankets, and cuddled together to sleep as Marquis and Jhonen waited for Red to finish making soup.

As they ate, the two wolves started to talk to Red happily.

"This is good soup, Red! Oh, how happy I'd be if you could stay with Papa and make him soup and help Peter around!" Marquis blinked, put down his bowl, and glanced at Red before smiling brightly, "That's what you could be: A guide for our little, blind brother!"

Jhonen choked on a mouthful of soup, spat it out, and glared at his brother, "Where would she lead Peter to? Papa's belly? That's where she's going anyway…" He paused, the bowl about to lift back up to his lips, and then he muttered, "And how is papa going to get his girls chained up so he can bleed them? Or maybe he just plans on chasing rabbits and squirrels till he can start eating normally again."

Marquis shrugged, glanced up, suggested, "Tie her to a stalactite?"

"Nah…"

After a moment of gazing at each other, Jhonen and Marquis burst out laughing.

Confused, Red stared at them, "Wait… Did I miss something?"

"Oh, no, no, no!" squeaked Marquis, wiping happy tears from his eyes. "But when he was little, we tied all of Peter's toys to a stalagmite, turned it into a little, fuzzy tower… And-and Peter," Marquis took a quick breath before chuckling, "He went running for it, jumped for it, and he ended up with a concussion!"

Jhonen howled with laughter, joined by Marquis.

Red glared at them, "That's mean."

"But it was funny!" They chorused together.

Sighing, Red shook her head, returned to her small bowl of soup, and took a sip.

* * *

Hansel returned to the Wolf's house that night, wearing ragged black clothes and creeping up to the door. His musket, loaded, lay in his hands.

Tracing a finger against the knob of the front door, he tried it, was surprised when he found it open. He creaked it open, crept in.

The house was dark in the night, with now lanterns or lamps to light the hall. However, Hansel could see clearly enough to step with confidence. For the next fifteen minutes, he scoured the rooms, becoming more and more frustrated when he could not find his 'Gretel'. Finally, he threw down his musket in anger, slouched down on the living room couch, and fumed.

After a few minutes of sullenly mulling over his thoughts, he whispered, "Hansel… You are pathetic..."

* * *

The Wolf crept through the streets of the town. He had awoken before midnight, hungry and angry after dreams of the hunter who had dared to invade his home. However, it was well into the time of night that no one really walked the streets, and, with the added threat of kidnapping and murder, people were surer to stay off the avenues.

Growling softly in his throat, the Wolf hid in the dark blackness of the nearby alley, shivered as he thought, and then hit upon an idea. He glanced about, saw a perfect target, and scurried to the wall to gaze up at the open window with eager, furious eyes.

A minute later, after scaling the wall with the help that all the bricks and wood fixtures blessed him with, the Wolf slid in through the open window, immediately smelled humans. He smiled, mouth watering, crept forward, and sniffed softly before glancing at the bed just a few feet to his right.

A little boy sneezed in his dream before raising a thumb to his mouth and sucking at it.

* * *

Red woke up the next morning, yawning wildly as she sat up. After a few moments of staring into the distance, dazed with waking up, she registered the pressure on her legs.

Glaring at the mound of fur that was the Wolf, she rolled her eyes, poked at the Wolf's side, "… Hey… Get up… I can't feel my legs…"

The Wolf grumbled in his sleep, curled up tighter, and puffed his fur out to release some of the heat that was trapped against his skin.

Red groaned, slapped at his side grumpily, "Get off of me! Go sleep on Peter or something!"

With a long intake of breath, the Wolf blinked awake. For a few moments, he lay upon her, still, and then smiled widely, "… I had my first human, Red…"

Red stiffened, staring at him, and then snarled, "What?"

"I went hunting last night… And I had a little child for my dinner…" The Wolf groaned, turned onto his back, and patted his belly happily, "My first time swallowing a human alive in a very, very long time… It wriggled!" He chuckled darkly.

Red shoved him off of her and hissed, "You touch me again, you monster, and I will kick you!"

The Wolf turned glittering eyes towards her, "I'll be able to eat you by week's end… I would not insult, if I were you."

"Well, what if I do get eaten? I've been slaving away under you for the past weeks and I don't care anymore!"

The Wolf licked his lips, bared his teeth in a smile, and then muttered, "And Peter…?"

"What about Peter?" asked Red warily after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.

"You care for Peter, don't you?"

Red stared at the Wolf before nodding solemnly, "A bit…"

The Wolf eyed her curiously, "And you wish to still die, even though you care for something still?"

"Why are you asking me this?" complained Red.

"'Cause I am happy and full for once. I'm in fresh air, I have my sons with me, I am this close," He held his pointer finger and thumb together, barely touching, "to eating the girl who ruined my life… I think I do have some right to question you on your last few days…"

Before Red could answer, Marquis appeared behind the Wolf, sniffing, "Papa?"

Slowly, the Wolf glanced back at his son, "Yes?"

"Jhonen and I would like to talk to you."

"… Do so in here." The Wolf returned a somewhat hungry gaze back onto Red.

"… A private talk, if you please."

Sighing, the Wolf stood, turned, and followed his sons away, leaving Red to stare. With a sudden shiver, she cuddled down into her blanket, seeking the warmth that she would have sought from her bed if she had just been at home.

* * *

"The sister saw everything." Muttered the first officer sullenly, "Said that a monster came in through the window and swallowed her little brother whole… That sounds like the Big Bad Wolf, alright… Swallowing whole and all that." He glanced up at Pinocchio.

Pinocchio was distracted, gazing up at the foggy sky, where vultures circled lazily. As he looked up, a white moth flitted across his vision, wavering in the moist air, struggling to keep up. With a sigh, Pinocchio gently reached out a hand, made a cage around the moth, and held it in his hands and he responded to his first officer, "Certainly is… The Fox came by last night and said that the Wolf had moved from his house to another place the he didn't know, so… the maps are useless." He opened his hands, watched the moth flit away to only land on the cold, hard ground, shivering, and muttered, "And… Hansel is on the hunt now. Another reason the fox came. He said that Hansel went by his den last night and threatened to shoot his family if the Fox didn't tell him where the wolves were. The Fox didn't know, so Hansel left… That will be sure to complicate things."

"… Hansel? Why's he interested?" The first officer scuffed his shoe at the moth, trying to make it fly away.

"Thinks Little Red Riding Hood is his dead sister, Gretel."

Snorting, the first officer waved his pointer finger around his ear, "Koo-Koo, that one! Should have him put away in an asylum!"

"… Wouldn't we all join him there?" Pinocchio glared at his first officer.

"Oh… Yeah… Right…" The first officer blushed. "And-" He stopped, eyes growing wide as they rooted upon something behind Pinocchio.

Pinocchio slowly turned, came face to face with Hansel, whose ice-blue eyes glimmered with an unidentifiable emotion. Softly, Hansel whispered, "I want your information. Tell me where the wolves are."

"We don't know, Hansel. We're sorry, but we can't help you." Pinocchio turned away.

Hansel hurried to stand in front of him, smile forming on his lips, "The Fox came to you last night… I was following him, knowing he'd go to you and tell you what he wouldn't tell me… Tell me, where are the wolves? They have something of mine."

"… Little Red Riding Hood is not Gretel!" hissed Pinocchio.

Hansel's grin grew brighter, "You are right. There was never a Little Red Riding Hood to begin with. It was always Gretel. She just forgot, so she made up that stupid nickname because she wanted to fill the emptiness inside of her. She knows she's missing something, but she doesn't know what… In reality, she is Gretel. It's just she hasn't found out yet."

"You are a crazy man!" Pinocchio snarled. "Don't even think about Gretel! She's dead! Think instead about all the other dead people that the wolves killed! Bliddy heck, they might have already killed Red already because of you!"

Hansel's eyes lost their glimmer, and his smile faded from his lips. Stepping back, he mumbled angrily, "If they have killed her, they will soon find it was not the best thing to have done."

Pinocchio froze, staring at this man who was more than slightly touched in the head, "What do you mean?"

Hansel grinned morbidly, "Wolf fur is extremely soft, detective…. Especially when it's peeled off a wolf that is still breathing."

Pinocchio made a small retching noise into his hand before squawking, "That is disgusting, Hansel! That's it! I order you to stay out of this situation!"

Hansel eyed him calmly, "I do not follow orders from puppets." He smirked, turned, stalked away.

Pinocchio was speechless for a few moments before squeaking in a high-pitched voice, "Puppet? _Puppet?_ I'll show you just how well a puppet can do his job, you mental freak!"


	19. Returning Home

The next three days passed too quickly for Red, who watched with horror as the Wolf slid way too easily back into his old lifestyle. Every night, he would come home with his stomach bloated, his demeanor cheery and satisfied.

Red decided it was time to run away, lest she be eaten up by the Wolf, whose aggressiveness was augmenting with every meal that he had. She waited until he had left on the fourth night, waited ten minutes, and then stole out of the cave after kissing Peter a goodnight kiss.

After she was lost in the trees for a bit, she returned to the river, began to hurry downstream. She knew it would pass close to the village sooner or later, and she remembered someone telling her from somewhere that wolves usually tracked by scent, which the water dissipated.

Just as morning was breaking over the distant east horizon, the trees of the forest blocking Red's view of it, Red slogged into the hollow between two logs, curled up, and fell asleep.

* * *

"Bet that's the girl that bliddy hunter Hansel's been looking for." 

"You sure? She smells of wolves. I heard Hansel hates wolves right now."

"Well… maybe he wants her to skin her or something."

"From one of his own kind?"

Red blinked awake at the sounds of voices, sniffed, sneezed when some little woods flakes tickled at her nose, and then turned to face the sky.

A bear and a hawk gazed down at her. Before Red could scramble up and shriek in surprise, the Bear put a claw to his lips and whispered, "Shush… We're not going to hurt you, Little Red."

The Hawk bobbed its head from side to side, scrutinizing eyes regarding her curiously, "He's already stuffed himself full of berries for coming Winter, the big glutton."

The Bear glared at his companion, "I have to hibernate too, you know!"

"… Just go south. Lot warmer there." The Hawk ruffled his feathers, smiled at the bear.

Pursing his lips, the Bear reached down, lifted Red out easily, and set her upon the ground. "Now… Red… May we ask personally why Hansel may be after you?"

"…Hansel?" Red blinked up at the Bear's kind face.

"Yes. He seems to be pining away for you every moment he walks this forest."

"I… don't know… I thought he was there to kill the wolves. I mean, Marquis opened the door and – BLAM! – he was shot!"

"I heard it was you he was after…" The Bear scratched at his head as he thought. "…Maybe he wants you and the wolves both."

The Hawk glared at him and sniffed sarcastically, "Oh, really?"

Red smiled, turned away, "Well… If you'd just point me in the right direction to town, I'd-"

The Bear caught her arm, pulled her back, and muttered, "No."

"No?" Surprised, Red gazed up at him.

Nodding, the Hawk explained, "We're actually really glad that we found you, or else Hansel would have. We don't trust him, so…" He glanced at the Bear.

"You can stay at my place." Offered the Bear, "I have fruit trees by my house, so you can eat that just till the snow comes... and I'm by the river too. I mean, I won't keep you against your will, but I recommend you wait till Hansel loses interest."

Red stared up at him before mumbling, "I think I can handle it. Hansel probably won't eat me, like the Wolf is promising to do."

"… Okay…" The Bear let go of her slowly, eyes sullen, "Just… try to not excite Hansel… When he gets excited, he goes on hunting rampages… and it's not fun for us animals…."

Red nodded, "Okay."

* * *

After another two hours of strolling alongside the river, Red finally saw the outskirts of town, rejoiced, and hurried forward. Immediately, she went to her house, locked the doors and windows, and cried happily into her pillow. Then, she forced herself to rise, stumble into the center of town to the police station. 

Pinocchio questioned her thoroughly, trying to extract the location of the wolves, but Red refused to tell him. She had a faint feeling that, if she told them where the wolves were, Peter would end up hurt, one way or another.

After thirty minutes of trying to coax a stubborn girl to talk, Pinocchio was frustrated, exhausted, but happy. Standing, he exited the room, went to the counter, poured himself some water, and sipped as he contemplated the story she had told him. Escaping because the Wolf was too busy devouring another little child… One of the orphans from the orphanage, to be exact. They had received a frantic foster mother that morning with heavy hearts.

He finished his water, turned to fill the glass again, and then turned before freezing, staring, and groaning.

Hansel stood in the doorway, eyes narrowed. "You're hiding something from me."

Pinocchio decided to not say that Red was there in the next room, "I'm not. We have no idea where the wolves are."

"I'm not talking about that. I found her footprints by the river." Hansel stepped forward, the pack on his back making a small shuffling noise against his leather shirt. "And they led into town. Where is her house?"

Sighing, Pinocchio leaned back, "Why do you only present an interest in her now? I mean, you've been living here since she was born, and you only now develop an interest?"

Hansel paused, thinking about Pinocchio's question, and then smirked, "It's like watching a moth mature… You're not sure until it's fully developed. I had my suspicions when she was young. I saw her at the children's school playground, and I wanted to see… Just see if she turned out to be like Gretel…" Hansel blinked, forced a small, hesitant smile, and whispered, "And I watched… And I watched… I never let myself be seen, lest I be labeled as something less than admirable… But I watched, and I saw her grow…" He fell silent.

Pinocchio pursed his lips, "So you're a stalker?"

"No!" hissed Hansel. "I am her protector! The first time that Wolf ate her, I was there! I didn't let her see my face, but I was there! _I_ cut her out! _I_ didn't care for the old woman, but I couldn't let Gretel leave me again! _I_ was the one who dragged that God-forsaken Wolf to the river and threw him in so he could drown! _I_ was the one who protected her!"

Pinocchio stared at him, "So… you're the woodsman who saved Red the first time?"

"I am! And I intend to do the same again!" Hansel drilled his pointer finger into Pinocchio's chest, eyes furious. "So tell me what you know and I will leave!"

"Well… Red isn't with the wolves anymore."

Hansel froze, staring at Pinocchio, and whispered, "Where is-"

Pinocchio pointed at the door that led to the interrogation room.

Staring at it for a moment, Hansel struggled with decisions before saying softly, "I want to see her."

"I can't do-"

In one quick movement, Hansel punched him across the face, sending Pinocchio to the floor. Ignoring his throbbing hand, he quickly strode to the door, opened it, and let himself in while Pinocchio stared after him in shock.

Red glanced up from her fidgeting fingers, "Pin-" She froze when she saw who it was.

Hansel smiled softly, took the seat across from her, leaned forward, "You're… okay…?"

Regarding him uneasily, Red nodded uncertainly, "…Yes…?"

Hansel's eyes grew sullen, "You don't like me?"

"… I would like you better if you hadn't tried to shoot my friend."

"… I won't do it again, I promise…" whispered Hansel.

For a few moments, Red shuddered nervously in the silence before asking, "Why are you here?"

Hansel's hands reached across, clasped around hers. They were unnaturally cold, freezing against her warm skin. With a dead look in his eyes, he muttered, "To make sure you are okay."

Red stared down at the rough, strong hands that held hers before slowly drawing her hands out from under them. Putting them in her lap, she said politely, "Well, thank you… I'm fine…"

Hansel withdrew his hands sluggishly, as if he was stuck in molasses while the rest of the world moved through air. "Well… They haven't… done anything to you, have they?"

"No." Red glanced at the door, willing Pinocchio to appear.

The wooden man stood next to the door, leaning against the wall as he listened. Red couldn't see him.

Hansel stared at her before whispering, "I have a portrait of you…"Red stiffened, staring at him as he dug through his pockets, withdrew the torn piece of canvas, gazed over it for a few moments, and then flattened it against the table. She regarded the picture upon the canvas before mumbling, "That's not me."

"… It is…" sniffled Hansel, twisting to take the pack off of his back. Digging through it, he took the small frame from it, laid it down.

Red pointed at it, "That's me! Why do you have a picture of-"

Hansel caught her hand, had it to his lips in a moment. Kissing it softly, he whimpered, "I've missed you, Gretel."

* * *

Pinocchio was startled when Red came storming out of the room. "You are a crazy man! I am not your sister! I am not this- this Gretel girl! I am Marie Landon! I am Little Red Riding Hood, if you prefer that, but I am not Gretel!" 

Seconds later, Hansel leaned out of the doorway, eyes miserable, "Gretel…"

"I am not Gretel! Pinocchio, come on!" Red turned towards Pinocchio, pleading him with her eyes to tell this madman that she wasn't a little dead girl.

"She's not Gretel, Hansel."

Hansel muttered under his breath before replying angrily, "She is! I have pictures!"

"Of two different girls! You just think they look alike! Red's not Gretel!"

Hansel hissed at him, baring his teeth like a feral cat.

"If you continue to do this, Hansel, I will have to call an asylum to take you away."

This stopped Hansel. Staring at Pinocchio, he whispered, "You wouldn't."

"I would."Hansel shuddered with fury, "You do that, and I-"

"Just go, Hansel."

Hansel glared at him, thinking, and then, growling, turned. Stomping to the door, he paused, glanced back at Red, and then smiled, anger gone, "Gretel… I know you know…"

"I said go, Hansel!" barked Pinocchio.

Hansel scurried out.


	20. Babysitting

Three nights after she had returned home, Red spent the night with Bo Peep, who was overjoyed to find that her friend was back. They stayed up talking to midnight before falling asleep against each other.

Morning came with little sun, so, while Red was walking home, she felt gloomy, just like the weather. For some reason, she missed Peter and his dependency on her.

However, the worry turned to anger when she entered her house and walked into the kitchen.

Head against the table, snoring softly, the Wolf surprised her when she came into the kitchen. She stared before groaning, walking up to him, and poking him in the shoulder.

The Wolf snorted awake, "Huh? What? Oh… Red…" He glanced up at her, smiled softly.

"…How did you get in?"

"Mm… The chimney…" The Wolf put his head back into his hands.

"Did you come to eat me?"

"… Yes… and no…"

Red sighed, stalked to the cupboard, found a glass, and poured herself a glass of water. "What do you mean by that?"

The Wolf glanced up wearily, "Peter."

"What about Peter?"

"He wants you and I don't want to kill his heart again. I already did that when I told him his mother went away."

"...And?"

"… Well… Considering that you did stop the hunter from shooting him…" the Wolf fidgeted with his claws before finally spitting it out, "How would you like to just babysit Peter every once in a while? In exchange for letting you live and-"

Red sighed with relief, "I'd be happy to!"

"Good… He's in the bed… I'll come by in a week to get him."

Red's face turned from cheerful to dangerous, "What?"

"… I brought Peter. I was pretty sure that you would agree. Besides, Jhonen and Marquis went away to their part of the forest again, and no one's left to watch Peter. So… You can watch him for a week?"

"… Sure…" growled Red.

* * *

Peter was already nested in her bed, sleeping when she came in. In his sleep, he whimpered softly, twitching as his dreams tormented his little mind. 

Red sat down with a sigh, put a hand on Peter's shoulder, and shook at his shoulder, "Peter… Come on, Peter…"

Peter snuffled awake, blinked, and then felt for the hand that was upon his shoulder. Finding it, he stiffened before squeaking, "Marie?"

"Yes, it's me."

Peter struggled up, using her arm to find her torso, and then hugged her happily, "You came back!"

"Actually, you came here."

"Huh? This isn't my bed?" Peter patted the covers, face screwing up in confusion.

"It's mine."

"Oh…" Peter paused, sucking at his lip, and then cuddled back down into the blankets and pillows, "It's comfy… Where's Papa?"

"He left you with me. We get to stay together for a week. Isn't that exciting?" Red clasped his hand, smiled brightly.

"Ooh! Really?" The little motions under the cover showed that Peter was wagging his tail, "That's great! We can play with toys and- You have toys right?"

"Some old ones, but nothing much. If you want to, I could take you over to my friend's house –she has a little brother- and you could play with his toys."

"That'd be fun!" Peter sniffled, eyes wide and bright, even though they couldn't see. He grabbed her hand, buried his wet snout in it, and mumbled in satisfaction, "And he could be my friend too, right?"

"Yes."

"Ah… That's nice…" Peter rubbed his furry cheek against her hand.

* * *

That evening, Red made some chicken pot pie and an upside-down raspberry pie. Peter sat at the table, happily humming as he used a small, deformed piece of charcoal to draw upon some paper. Even though he couldn't see what he was drawing, he was intrigued. 

"I made another one for you!" squeaked Peter, holding up the page of scribbles for Red to see.

Red giggled, "Just put it aside like the others, Peter. I'll put them away once I get this berry pie on the plate." She turned the pan upside down, frowned when the pie refused to come out. After a few shakes, it splattered down on the plate, and Red smiled before turning, taking it to the table.

The chicken pie was already there, ready to be served to the two attendants to the table. However, just as Red was cutting the chicken pie, a knock came from the front door. Sighing, Red stood, whispered, "I'll be right back." Standing, she wandered out of the room, down the hall, and to the front door. With a small sigh, she took the knob and opened.

Hansel smiled at her, eyes soft, "Hello, Gretel…"

Red shut the door, hissed, "Go away!"

"Gretel…" came Hansel's sorrowful voice, "I brought you dinner… Please… Let me in…"

Red sighed, opened the door again, and watched Hansel warily as he came in. He had somewhat brushed his blonde hair down and had washed his cheeks free of dirt. Licking his lips when he smelled the pies, Hansel sighed, ''You've already made dinner? Oh well…" He let the sack fall from his shoulder. "You can make it for lunch tomorrow then…"

"What did you bring?"

"… A bird."

"… You can give that to Peter."

"P….Peter…? Who's that?" Hansel's eyes narrowed.

Red blocked the kitchen door, "You have to promise not to hurt him."

"… But…"

"Promise."

Hansel struggled with his mouth before muttering sullenly, "I… promise, Gretel… But who's Peter…?"

Red turned without a word, walked into the kitchen. Hansel followed her hesitantly, froze when he saw Peter, and instantly pulled out a knife from under his shirt, eyes glazing over with hatred.

"No! You promised!"

Hansel stopped, slowly turning his eyes to Red, and silently put his knife back into its hidden sheath. Forcing a smile, he managed to strangle out, "… You have a _wolf_ in your kitchen?"

"Come and sit down." Red pulled up a third chair, turned to grab another plate and some utensils.

Peter cocked his head as he heard Hansel's chair screech to his right, "Who's that?"

Hansel glared at him before muttering, "My name is Hansel."

"I'm Peter. Nice to meet you!" Peter held out a hand forward, nearly knocking over the pitcher of water.

Hansel slowly took it, gave it a firm squeeze, and then mumbled under his breath. Red heard nothing, but Peter squeaked indignantly, "Hey!"

Red sighed, turned, and glanced at the two, "What did he say?"

"He said I would make a horrible blanket!" Peter shivered, claws clenched on the table.

Hansel glared at him, opened his mouth to retort, but stiffened when Red tapped him on top of his blonde hair, "You're not going to make a blanket out of anyone."

Staring up at her innocently, Hansel sniffled, "But you need a blanket if you're going to live with me."

Red gazed at him stupidly before squawking furiously, "What the heck do you mean 'live with you'?"

"… You're my little sister… I have to protect you…" Hansel reached out, twisted his arms around her abdomen, and hugged her gently before muttering into her dress, "Especially from the wolves."

Peter squeaked, pounded at the table with his fist, "I'm not a bad guy! I'm not! I'm not going to hurt Marie!"

Hansel released Red, spun in his chair to Peter, and hissed, "Her name is not Marie! It is Gretel!"

"Her name is Marie! She said so! She can tell me her own name!"

Red yanked Hansel back by the collar of his shirt just as he was reaching for the little wolf's throat, "No! If you continue this, I am going to throw you out!"

Instantly, Peter's eyes filled with tears, "Me too?"

"No, not you, Peter, just-"

Twisting out of her grip, Hansel stood, wiped himself off, and shot an annoyed but loving glare at Red, "You always loved animals, Gretel… But I really think you should not extend that courtesy to a," He spat upon the ground, "wolf."

Peter's fur puffed up, but he forced himself to remain quiet.

Red poked Hansel in the chest, angry, "Even if I was your sister, do you think that I would just let you run my life?"

Hansel licked his lips, "I'm your older brother. I know better. That is how it's always been." He bent, brushed an amorous kiss across her cheek. "I love you, Gretel…"

Next moment, his cheek was bright pink and smarting, his eyes wide and hurt as Red hissed, "Get out of my house right now, you freak! Out!"

* * *

Red and Peter ate their dinner silently. Immediately afterwards, Red helped him down the hall to the bedroom, lay down beside him, and fell asleep. Peter snuggled up against her, happy to be having a sleepover with his friend. 

Hansel came in the middle of the night, eyes glinting as he peered in through Red's bedroom window. Slowly, he lifted a hand, tugged the unlocked window open, hefted himself up, and slid in. Silently, he crept over to the bed, crept up onto it, and lay down next to Red, moaning in satisfaction as he felt her shudder beside him.

"Gretel…" Hansel smiled, kissed Red's shoulder, and began to hoarsely whisper-sing:

_"Sleep well, Gretel, _

_Morning's almost here._

_Sleep well, Gretel,_

_You have nothing to fear._

_Hansel is here to protect you,_

_To make sure no harm assails…_

_Sleep well, my sister,_

_My sweet Gretel."_

As he had sung it, Red slept very well that night, but was furious in the morning when she found Hansel besides her. After yelling at him for several minutes, she found Peter his crutches, angrily led him out to the street and started for the police station.

Hansel followed them the whole way, whining, "Gretel… It's Hansel… Why are you being difficult…? I'm your brother…"

"No, you're not!"

When Red reached the police station, she stalked in, sat Peter down in the waiting area, and went to tell Pinocchio about her predicament.

Gazing over her shoulder as he scratched at his cheek, Pinocchio muttered, "Don't turn around. He's at door, looking straight at you."

Red flinched, "Please! Just make him stop bothering me!"

"... I don't think anything less than actually sending him to an asylum will get him to leave you alone."

"Then send him to-"

Pinocchio leaned forward with a sigh, "Look… Red… I don't want to do that… It's not his fault that his sister died and left him to go insane. Maybe if you just try to fix those wounds, Hansel will stop noticing you and go back to himself."

"… What are you-"

"Just… play along…" said Pinocchio quietly. "Just… pretend to be Gretel, make him happy, and then we'll see what happens."

"Are you crazy? If I spend time with him, he'll skin Peter alive!"

"… Peter? Who's that?"

Red stood, turned, and, without looking at the door, went to the waiting area. Helping Peter up, she trailed back over to Pinocchio, who watched the little wolf curiously. "This is Peter."

"… The Wolf's son."

"Yes."

"Why is he with you?"

"… The Wolf had something to do… and I'm friends with Peter…"

Peter's ears cocked towards Pinocchio before he smiled brightly, "You're the wooden man! You make that little sound that wood makes!"

Pinocchio blinked, leaned forward, and stared up at Peter's unresponsive face before asking incredulously, "He's limp and he's blind?"

"Yes." Replied Red as Peter sighed.

"… How awful…" mumbled Pinocchio before blinking as a shadow fell onto him, coming from over Red and Peter.

Glancing back, Red grimaced as Hansel put a hand on her shoulder and cooed, "Gretel… Please… It's time to come home…"


	21. A Meal with a Side of Guilt

As Pinocchio had suggested, Red grudgingly began to play the part of Gretel. Hansel, overjoyed, led her and Peter to his house, quickly shoved all the mess to one side of the room, and set down furs and hides to make a bed.

Peter, who was exhausted after such a long time using his crutches, fell down to sleep at once. Red, however, watched as Hansel sorted through the mess, humming happily. Out of it, he brought a battered old teddy bear, a little, embroidered pillow that said 'H and G are sitting in a tree', and, finally, a little brass whistle, from which two bright pebbles hung from. He shoved them into her hands hurriedly, smiling, "I've saved your stuff, Gretel! Aren't you happy?"

Red set the things aside, glanced back at Peter, and sighed, "… I… am."

Hansel instantly sat beside her, eyes worried, "You're sad. What's wrong?"

"… You have to promise you won't hurt Peter."

"I promise I won't, dear Gretel…" Hansel pecked a kiss atop her forehead before smiling, patting the fur that made the blanket, "Do you like the bed? If you want, I can go find some of the other furs I have out back…"

"This is fine." Red squeaked, just then seeing the holes in the bear skin that had used to be two eyes and a nose.

"… Okay…" Hansel kissed her before pushing her gently down, pulling another fur atop her, and whispering, "Good night, Gretel…"

* * *

For the next four days, Red and Peter stayed with Hansel. The hunter paid too much attention to Red than she thought reasonable. At each meal, she would always be served first; at night, the one who had the softest fur to cover her; in the morning, the gentle touch of Hansel to wake her up.

However, Hansel showed the fact that he despised Peter. While Peter was happy, having a fun time with Red at Hansel's cabin, Hansel regarded Peter with a more and more annoyed glare with each passing day.

Finally, he snapped, and, taking his knife, nearly killed Peter. If Red hadn't stopped him, her wolf friend would have died. So, Red, furious at Hansel, took Peter back to her own home to keep him safe.

When she entered the door, she paused when she saw a long, wrinkled beige overcoat on the floor. Sighing, she called, "Hey… I'm back now…"

Moments later, The Wolf peeked his head out past the door that led to her room, "Oh! Hello! I came yesterday, 'cause I finished my business, and I didn't find you… Where were you two?"

Before Red could find a decent excusing story, Peter whined, "A hunter kidnapped us, papa!"

The Wolf froze, stared at his son, and then whispered, "But… Red?" He glanced at Red.

"… Kind of…" added Red sullenly.

* * *

After Red had explained the whole thing to the Wolf, he sat on the bed, mulling over this information, before asking slowly, "So… This hunter… Hansel… He's the one who cut me open the first time… And he's the one who shot Marquis?"

"Yes."

"… And he thinks that you are his sister?" The Wolf patted Peter's head, earning a soft moan of pleasure. During Red's story, the little wolf had fallen asleep.

"Yes."

"…So… You're his hurting spot." The Wolf turned narrowed eyes to Red, fur lifting on end.

Red stared at him before nodding hesitantly, "I… guess I would-"

Next moment, she lay on the floor, the Wolf holding her down as he hissed softly, "You're the supposed little sister of the man who cut me open, and you're also the girl who got me into this whole mess… I just can't ignore it anymore." He bent his head down, his snout coming next to her ear, before whispering softly, "I've changed my mind. You're a hazard that I do not want…"

Red stared up in horror as the Wolf moved his now-wide open mouth towards her head.

* * *

The Wolf leaned back onto his elbows, licking his chops as he stroked his bloated belly. The hunter would feel the pain of losing his 'sister', and Red would lose her life. It was perfect plan for revenge, and a delicious one too.

Standing, tenderly scratching at his stomach, the Wolf headed for the bed where Peter slept.

"Bunny…" murmured Peter in his sleep, legs twitching as he dreamt. "Bunny… come back…. Papa… papa… he's… NO!" He sat up, shivering through the coat of sweat-soaked fur that covered him before bursting into tears, "Marie! Marie!"

The Wolf, who had been just settling down next to him, jumped in surprise before sighing, petting Peter's head, "What's wrong?"

"Papa?" Peter cringed away from his father's claws before whimpering, "Where's Marie? Marie! Marie!"

The Wolf slowly glanced down at his rounded stomach, licked his lips, and then settled down next to Peter, "… She had to go away."

"Where did she go?" Finding his father's chest, Peter buried his head into the slick, gray fur, sobbing, "Take me to her. I want… Marie…"

The Wolf traced a claw across his stomach, savoring the feeling of victory that crept through his veins. However… another feeling had joined it now: Guilt. Guilt that Peter was now friendless because of him. Softly, he tugged Peter to him, hugged him gently, "It's okay, Peter… We'll find you another friend…"

"I… want… Marie…" moaned Peter.

The Wolf could still feel Red jerking inside of him, vainly trying to escape. The little quirks sent thrills up his spine, but the comfort of his son's body in his arms… There was no comparison.

Slowly standing, he whispered, "I'll… be right back."

"Papa? Papa?" Peter reaching blindly after his father's voice as the Wolf hurried out of the room, a hand clapped in front of his mouth as he began to feel bile rising to his throat. After a few seconds, Peter broke into another torrent of tears, curled up around a pillow, and sobbed.


	22. Cuddle

Red was unconscious for a full day after the Wolf vomited her up. Her skin had small splotches of pink dotting it, wounds from the stomach acids of the Wolf.

She awoke the day after, hacking violently, her throat burning. Throwing up on the blanket that covered her, she gasped, fell back against the pillow, and stared up at the ceiling in a daze before feeling a small shiver at her forearm. Weakly, she turned her head to the side.

Peter was curled up against her forearm, whimpering in a dream. His small paws tightened at her forearm as he tried to pull himself from his nightmare.

Red smiled softly, turned to her side, and petted Peter's arm. At her touch, Peter relaxed, sighed happily, and settled back into a restful sleep.

Red smiled, only to freeze when hot breath batted the back of her neck. Slowly, she turned to stared into the Wolf's narrowed eyes.

"… What sort of witchery have you cast upon my son?" hissed the Wolf, fur fluffed out in annoyance. "He whined and whined for you, didn't even pay attention to me! Am I not good enough?"

Red stared into the Wolf's milky, angry eyes before whispering softly, "You ate me…"

"I know that!" snarled the Wolf. "And Peter went into such a breakdown that I had to throw you back up!"

"…Really?"

Peter muttered in his sleep as he twisted closer to Red. Hurriedly, the Wolf pushed a hand against Red's mouth, whispered, "Be quiet!"

He waited until Peter was lost once more in his dreamland before lowering his hand and muttering, "Look… I'm… sorry… I mean, there was reason to eat you. I'd be getting back at you and the hunter at the same time… Oh, and you felt so delightful." The Wolf put a hand against his gaunt stomach before sighing, "Guess it was too good to be true."

Red slapped at him angrily as she struggled to sit up, "You shouldn't even try to eat people! It's disgusting and horrible!"

The Wolf groaned, slumped down onto the blanket, "What's the use for them then? They're big meals, satisfying meals… And…" He paused when he saw Peter start to snuffle awake.

Yawning, Peter reached out blindly, "Marie?"

Red took his hand and clasped it gently, "Yes?"

Peter smiled, pulled her hand down, and hugged it to his chest, "Marie…" His eyes closed as a faint smile crossed his lips. "Papa brought you back…"

The Wolf prowled to Peter, lay down beside him, and nuzzled his son's shoulder lovingly, "Anything for you, Peter."

Peter let the Wolf pull him against his abdomen to hug him even tighter and then moaned, "Papa… You're warm…"

The Wolf smiled, nipped at his son's ears, and kept Peter securely in his hands as he whispered, "Of course I am. If I wasn't, I couldn't hug you. You wouldn't let me. You would say, 'Papa, you're too cold! Don't touch me!'"

Peter giggled, snuggled back into the Wolf's fur, paused, and then whispered, "What about Marie?"

The Wolf's eyes narrowed as they turned to Red, "What about her?"

"… Can't she be warm too?"

"… Why would… I do that?"

"To be a nice papa."

The Wolf sighed, motioned to Red, "Come here."

Red sullenly obeyed, crawled over. Peter's seeking hands found her arm, grabbed her wrists, and tugged at Peter said eagerly, "Marie, come on! Papa's really warm and we can cuddle and-"

Not waiting for Peter to finish, the Wolf snaked a long arm out, grabbed Red, and dragged her to him. Red squeaked, only to find Peter's arms trying to hug her. The Wolf released her, curled around the two smaller persons, hugging his son.

Peter snuggled against her back, "Marie… You don't want to cuddle?"

Red smiled, turned to her opposite side, and hugged Peter back. Peter giggled happily, found her arm, and embraced it before squeaking as the Wolf growled low in his throat, "… Peter…"

"Papa! She's nice! She's my friend!" complained Peter, hugging Red's arm defensively.

Grumbling, the Wolf reached over, took a lock of Red's hair, twirled it in his claws for a moment before muttering, "Where does that hunter live? I'm hungry."

Red twisted around to glare at him, "No, you're not going to eat him."

"… But I'm hungry…"


	23. The Wolf meets Hansel

The Wolf went out for the day and came back late that night with a bloated stomach and a bloody maw. Stealing past a horrified Red, he disappeared into the bathroom, washed the blood away, and then curled in the empty bathtub to fall asleep.

Around midnight, Hansel appeared outside of Red's window, bright-eyed and shivering. Opening the window hastily, he slid in, shut the window against the cold air behind him, and crawled to the bed. He stood, regarded Red lovingly, who was curled up next to Peter. After a few moments of watching, he turned, headed down the hall. He needed to relieve himself. He found the restroom, stepped in, closed the door behind him, and searched for the chamber pot. Finding it, he unbuttoned his pants, started to relieve himself. He froze when he heard a small mutter coming from the wooden tub to his left. Slowly, he glanced over.

The Wolf glared out at him, eyes glinting whitish-yellow in the dark, "Who're you?"

Hansel stared before he glanced back down at the chamber pot. Finishing relieving himself, he buttoned his pants back up, turned, wandered over to the side of the tub, and peered in.

Narrowing his eyes, the Wolf asked again, "Who are you?"

"...Is it warm in there?" inquired Hansel, completely ignoring the Wolf's question.

"… And what if it is?"

"I'm family to the girl who owns this house… I'm cold, and your son is taking up the bed. There's room in there…" Hansel smiled softly, stepped in, and lay down next to the Wolf.

The Wolf glowered at him, baring his teeth at this intruder. "Are you mad?"

"…Sort of…" Hansel sniffed as warmth besieged him.

Sighing, the Wolf growled, lay back down. He was in no mood to fight, let alone chase an insane man away. He lay his head back down on the wooden floor of the tub, closed his eyes, and fell back to sleep.

* * *

When Red woke up the next morning, Hansel and the Wolf were sitting at the kitchen table, glowering over the wooden tabletop at each other. In the center of the table was a knife. 

Hansel glanced over at her, smiled, and whispered, "Your friend and I are playing a game." He returned his eyes to the knife.

The Wolf stared at Hansel's hands, tense.

Snapping his arm forward, Hansel grabbed the knife. The Wolf's claws, however, grabbed his hand, stopped it. Chuckling dryly, the Wolf hissed, "My turn to try to get it."

Hansel dropped the knife back down onto the top of the table, leaned back into his chair, and waited. Red sighed with relief. She had been worried for a minute that the knife had been there as a killing tool, not a game piece. Turning, she opened a cupboard, pulled out some bread.

A large crash issued from behind her. Whirling about, she saw the table overturned, the Wolf rushing away with the knife. Hansel chased him furiously, "No! You're not supposed to take it! You're just supposed to get it without me catching you! Give me back my knife!"

The Wolf laughed gaily, his long legs easily distancing him from the furious hunter. "I'm not giving it back to you!"

Hansel stopped, glared after him, and then stomped back to the kitchen. Angrily flipping the table back to its feet, he sat down, fumed, "Stupid Wolf… Won't give me back my knife."

"… I'm just happy that you're not killing each other."

"Are you kidding? He's going to take away that brat wolf that's distracting you and take it back with him."

Red glared at him, "So… you're just being nice because you want Peter to go away?"

"Yes."

The Wolf peeked back in, "Hey… You don't want your knife back?"

Glancing at him, Red smiled softly, "I'm surprised you aren't killing him either."

"Huh? What's that about?" The Wolf strolled to the table, set down the knife, which was instantly grabbed away by Hansel, and came to Red's side.

"He's the hunter I told you about."

"…What?" The Wolf stiffened, eyes narrowing.

"The huntsman who cut you-"

Next moment, Hansel shrieked as the Wolf dove over the table to knock him over. As they scuffled on the floor, the Wolf snapping his jaws at Hansel's face, Hansel grabbing the Wolf's throat to keep him from ripping off his face, Red hurried over and hissed, "No! No fighting! Not in my house!"

The Wolf rolled back, crouched against the floor, and growled, "This freak is the huntsman who tore me open? He said he was your family!"

Red glared at Hansel, who was glowering at the Wolf, "I'm not your sister, Hansel."

"You are. You just don't remember."

The Wolf paced, his voice rising and falling between his growls, "Fine! Hunter! Get up and we are taking this outside to settle!"

"…" Hansel thought this over before smiling, standing, and sheathing his knife. Shrugging, he whispered, "I think I'm at a disadvantage..." Stepping out into the hall, he went to the front door, opened it, stepped out.

The Wolf growled in fury and followed.

* * *

Hansel was a fast runner, but the Wolf was faster. The only problem was that, as he ran after the man who had cut him open so long before, he attracted the attention of the police. 

So, while Hansel was without his gun, the police had theirs, and they made very good use of them. They shot repeatedly at the Wolf, the beast that had been terrorizing their town and eating their citizens for such a long while. Although seemingly impervious to bullets, the Wolf eventually fled from the guns, pining away at the many bullets that had dug painfully into his flesh. Once had had reached a quiet place, he took his time digging each bullet out, meticulously lining them up on the ground, and cringing as he started on the next bullet hole.

In the end, he counted out twenty-seven bullets.

Cringing with pain as he limped back to Red's house, the Wolf vowed for revenge against Hansel and the police force.

* * *

Tired of hearing angry mutters coming from the bathroom, Red finally stood, stormed down the hall, and stalked into the bathroom, "Can you please be quiet? I am trying to sleep! And Peter is too!" 

The Wolf glared up from the wooden tub before huffing, laying back down, and mumbling, "Bliddy Hansel… He'll get his… And that Pinocchio man… I'll throw him a fire… I will…"

"I said to be quiet! I can hear you all the way down the hall!"

The Wolf sat back up, glared at her, and then muttered, "I want Peter."

"He's in my bed."

"Then I'll go sleep with him." Stepping out of the wooden tub, the Wolf stumbled past Red, swearing softly with each pained step.

Red followed him, nagging, "There's not enough room."

"Then I guess you have to sleep on the carpet." Replied the Wolf without missing a beat.

"It's my house."

"It's my mercy!" hissed the Wolf, glaring at her.

"… It's my house." Repeated Red.

"Well then, I'll just eat you and then I'll lay us both down to sleep, won't I?" The Wolf stopped, turned to her, and made to grab her.

Red danced back, tripped on the carpet, and yelped as she fell back. Rubbing her stinging hands, she muttered, "Fine… Go sleep on the bed…"


	24. The Wolf's Revenge

The next morning, while it was still dark as night, the Wolf woke up early, scurried out of house to find a meal to placate his ravenous hunger. Unable to find anything on the streets after an hour of searching, he wandered into the forest, found a den of rabbits, devoured them all, and returned to town ready for the day.

His first order of business was to go to the local prostitution house, lure the matron away to an empty room, and offer her a large amount of money if she would follow his directions. The matron agreed upon it.

He then snuck back to Red's house, found them playing stuffed animals in the kitchen. After taking a small nap, his muscles still sore from the former day's shootout, he stole out in his disguise, went to the store, and bought two small barrels of alcohol. He took them back to Red's house, refused to tell her what they were for.

The next day, he stood down the street from the police station, watching the matron of the prostitution house walking slowly in.

When Pinocchio saw her come in, he groaned loudly, put his face in his hands. It was a well-known fact that he despised the prostitution house for its business, and he wasn't afraid to show it.

After a few moments, he looked up, saw the matron lounging in the chair opposite him. Glowering at her, he muttered, "What do you want?"

"I have information." Lilted the matron, toying with the furry lining of her jacket.

"… Of what?"

"The Big, Bad Wolf."

Instantly, all biased grudges rushed away from Pinocchio's mind to be replaced with dutiful attentiveness, "The Wolf? Really?" Standing, he motioned to her, "Come with me. We need to take you into an-"

The matron regarded him calmly, "Really… A man telling a woman to move? Is that polite? _No_…" She snuggled down into the chair, dared him with her eyes, "I think I will talk to you here."

Pinocchio sighed, his distaste creeping back, sat, and asked, "First of all… How do you know the Wolf?"

"He is an avid customer, just wild for one of my girls. He lost his mate, you know, and she reminds him of her…" The matron smiled softly.

Pinocchio groaned, put his head against the desk. Staying there for a few seconds, he finally forced himself to straighten, glared at her, "And…?"

"I heard you were hoping to catch him."

"We are."

"… He attends every Thursday."

Pinocchio hurriedly scribbled down 'Thursdays' on a spare sheet of parchment, asked eagerly, "Anything else."

"… He called me a-"

"Anything pertaining to the investigation, I mean." Muttered Pinocchio.

"…Not really."

"Good. So… Three days, huh?"

"Yes." The matron stood, nodded her head to Pinocchio, and turned to leave.

Pinocchio sighed with relief as she left.

* * *

As soon as she exited the police station, the matron strolled quickly down the street, saw the Wolf in his disguise, and hurried up to him. "I did it."

"Good." The Wolf extended a hand. In his claws was a brown bag, clinking with money. It was such a wonderful poison, these coins. "Here's what I promised for this part."

The matron snatched it away, clutched it to her chest as if it were her very life. "Thank you!"

The Wolf smiled under his hood. Humans were so easy to twist about his paw when it came to money. "Well, well… I bet that's even more than you ever had, isn't it?"

The matron eyed him warily, nodded hesitantly.

"… You know how much I will pay you." Whispered the Wolf. "So no turning your back on me till we're all the way through this and I've humiliated the whole police force."

"Yes, sir." Said the matron meekly.

* * *

The Wolf had three days to prepare for Thursday's revenge. Every day, he would come back with two more barrels of alcohol. Then, on Wednesday, he brought two large barrels of gunpowder to her house.Thursday came, and Red woke that morning to find all ten barrels of alcohol and gunpowder gone. The day passed quietly, and, then, evening fell upon the town, casting darkness over the houses.

Pinocchio and his first officer sat on the bench across from the prostitution house, waiting. Pinocchio had a cap tugged down over his face, pretending he was asleep. After a good forty minutes of waiting in the chilly night air, the first officer whispered, "Here he comes."

The Wolf, without his disguise, came strolling down the street. Tail wagging, he glanced around suspiciously, saw no one but the men across the street, stiffened, and then hurried into the prostitution house.

The two police men waited for a few more minutes before they saw the matron wander out onto the sidewalk, take a polished pipe from her pocket, and stuff tobacco into it. Lighting it with a match, she puffed at it lazily, eyeing the two men.

"And… that's the signal… I'll go in first. You hear a gunshot, you come too okay?" Pinocchio stood, slowly crossed the street, and brushed against the matron on his way to the door.

"Room five." She whispered.

Pinocchio stalked through the door, his musket ready in his hands.

The interior of the prostitution house was dark, full of shadows. The few candles here and there cast miserable shapes upon the ground, dancing their temporary dance before someone or something should snuff them out.

Pinocchio stepped down the hall slowly, listening. He heard nothing. Coming to door five, he took a deep breath, readied himself, and forced it open quickly.

Nobody.

Confused, Pinocchio glanced at the number on the door. Sighing, he turned, was about to leave, when he heard a small gasp from the bed. He whirled about, raised his musket, and slowly came forward.

Pulling back the bed sheets, he found a shivering girl, bound by the wrists and ankles, a gag in her mouth. Tears ran down her rosy cheeks.

Pinocchio dropped the musket, crawled onto the bed, and began to quickly unbind her. "Don't worry. I'll get you out of here. Don't worry."

Never did he see the Wolf, who had been hiding behind the door, step out. In his hands was a small axe, polished sharp. Sneaking forward, he raised the axe over his head, smile wide and sharp, before angrily slamming it down. Pinocchio dropped to his knees as his head separated from his neck. The wooden eyes were wide, surprised, before they blinked, glanced around wildly. The body moved sluggishly, groping around, trying to find the head.

The Wolf proceeded to sever Pinocchio's limbs from his torso and hip. Finally, he dropped the axe, smiling wildly. Grabbing up the head, he held it up to his face and muttered cheerfully, "Still alive, wooden man?"

His voice cracked and raspy, Pinocchio retorted furiously, "You monster!"

"I get that a lot…" The Wolf took Pinocchio's head, opened the mouth of the sack at his side, and dropped it in. Then, bending over the trembling girl, he licked his lips and muttered, "And you…? I have no more use for you… But I will give you your choice of a death. Would you rather be useful and be my dinner, or would you rather burn slowly to death?"

The girl stared up at him before fainting, eyes rolling back into her head as she slumped.

"…Exactly what I wanted to hear…" whispered the Wolf.

* * *

The first officer fidgeted by the bench, waiting for a gunshot or any noise that would give him permission to rush in and see what was happening. However, nothing came to his ears, and he sat back down on the bench in frustration.

That was then the sudden flash of light came, the intense flush of heat, the invisible slap of forced air. The first officer flinched before staring at the prostitution house, which now was engulfed in flames.

On the opposite side of the now-burning prostitution house, the Wolf petted his stomach slowly as he watched the flames light up the night. He could hear Pinocchio's soft, whispering cries in the bag, feel the twitches of the dying girl inside him. The flames excited him, and he stared in awed satisfaction as the claws he petted his rounded stomach with stilled. He grumbled happily as he turned, oblivious to the flock of white moths that twittered through the air towards the light overhead.


	25. Pinocchio's Head

The Wolf found Red's front door locked, so had to pull himself through a window that he found was open. Grunting with satisfaction as he lay himself down in the wooden tub, which was still damp with water from somebody's bath, he snuggled his head into his arms as he scratched at his side with a hind paw.

Then, he registered the small furry thing that sat right by his head, staring at him. Slowly, he glanced up, met the green eyes of the cat.

* * *

"What the heck do you mean the cat was your friend?" hissed the Wolf, glaring at Peter. 

"…Me and Red found it yesterday. Andit liked me… And I liked it." Peter's chin trembled as his eyes filled with tears. "And… and… you ate it!" He started to bawl.

The Wolf cringed, "First, you say rabbits are your friends, and now cats?"

Peter sobbed loudly, "Y-y-yes…"

"Ah! Red! Stop teaching my sons bad habits!" The Wolf scrambled out of the room, intent on finding Red and lecturing her.

She was making soup in the kitchen, stony-faced and furious. Glaring back at him as he repeated his demand, she hissed, "And stop killing people!"

"Huh? What's that?"

Red pointed furiously at the bag that lay upon the table. "Pinocchio's head is in there! How could you?"

"… He's not dead… Just… unable to move." Sniffed the Wolf.

"He's decapitated! He's dead!"

"Probably just asleep." Tugging the bag over to him, the Wolf reached in, grabbed up Pinocchio's head, and held it up before dropping it.

It landed with a crack against the floor. Eyes fluttering open, Pinocchio stared up at the ceiling, at the Wolf, and then squeaked, "Where….am I?"

The Wolf snorted, "See? Still alive."

* * *

After a long period of screaming and the Wolf delighting in scaring her with Pinocchio's head, Red finally calmed her racing heart down and hissed, "Take him to the doctor!" 

The Wolf tossed Pinocchio's head from hand to hand, enjoying the indignant squeaks the wooden head made, "No. He's my new toy. Wonderful, isn't he?" He threw him up hard, watched him hit the ceiling before thumping back down on the carpet.

Pinocchio gasped, his eyes dazed, "Please…. Stop…"

The Wolf pounced upon the head, picked it up, and tucked it under his arm before strolling down the hall to enter Red's bedroom, "Peter! I have a new toy for you!"

Peter was still crying over the loss of his cat. He didn't seem to hear.

"Peter!"

"W-w-what…?" sobbed Peter weakly.

"I have a new… pet thing for you…"

Pinocchio squeaked softly under the Wolf's arm, "I'm not a pet!"

Peter's ears flared up, his eyes grew wide instinctively, and he glanced in the general direction of the door, "A… a pet?" He sniffled, brushed his hands over his cheeks to wipe away the tears.

"Yes." The Wolf came over, placed Pinocchio's head upon Peter's lap, and petted his son's head. "Here you go."

Peter's little fingers found Pinocchio's head. Holding it up, he traced the tips of his fingers over it, trying to deduce what kind of pet it was. "It's… hard…"

Pinocchio finally muttered, "I'm wooden."

Startled, Peter dropped it, took in a few gasping breaths, and then found it again. Poking at it, he whispered, "You can talk."

"… Yes. I used to be able to walk too, but your father kind of killed that for me." snorted Pinocchio.

"… Wow…" Peter gasped in awe.

* * *

Peter was totally enthralled with his new 'toy pet thing', as the Wolf called Pinocchio's head. Red listened curiously as the sounds of friendly chatting came from down the hall. She felt urges to rush in, rip the head away, and hurry it to the hospital, but she couldn't bring herself to. 

She didn't want to touch the thing.

The day passed with no incidents. However, when the Wolf headed out to find prey, he stopped first and asked Red if she wouldn't mind giving Peter a bath. Red nodded, but, when the time came, was hard-pressed. She had heated the water, poured it into the tub, and had set aside the small waxy bar of soap. Now, all that she needed to do was coax Peter into the water.

Peter shivered by the side of the tub, sitting down on the cold, hard floor. He shook his head, voice shaking, "No… I don't want a bath…"

Red sighed, knelt, and rubbed at his shoulder, "For me?"

"…Only if you get in with me… I'm scared to go into water alone…" Peter felt for her face, found it, and toyed with a bang of brown hair.

Red sighed, tugged at his arm, "Fine. I'll put you in and then I'll get in, okay? Now, take off your shorts so you can-"

"No!" Peter crossed his arms, glared off to the side, thinking he was looking at her. "I won't take off my shorts. I take my bath with my shorts on, or no bath at all."

"…Okay… You can keep your shorts on."

Peter felt for the tub's side, found it, pulled himself up, and, legs twitching as they lifted weakly, slowly pulled himself over the side. He gasped as soon as he splashed down into the hot water, instantly found the shallow part, and sat there, eyes wide and frightened. "Remember your promise..."

Red undressed slowly, mulled over whether she should remove her corset or her underwear, and decided that she could, because Peter was blind and could not see. Leaving them on the ground, she slid in.

Peter reached out for her, whimpering. He knew where she was because of the ripples of the water that came from her. "Marie..."

Red let him find her hand, hug it to his chest for comfort, and relax. However, she stopped him when he tried to move closer, "No."

"…But… Marie… I-"

"I'm naked."

Peter froze before firmly planting his bottom upon the bottom of the tub. "Okay. Just… please don't leave me here…"

For the next fifteen minutes, Red gently circled Peter, scrubbing at him without letting him touch her. He stayed stock-still, a bit terrified, a bit relieved, a bit uncomfortable. However, when she was done, he glanced up to where he thought she was, blinked, and asked in surprise, "You're not going to clean my legs?"

"You can do that." Red gently pulled his hand up and put the bubbly soap bar on his palm.

She settled down, took another bar of soap to wash herself, and rubbed at her skin as she watched Peter feel the soap. He turned it slowly in his claws, a bit confused by it, before he asked, "What is this?"

"Soap."

"What is 'soap'?"

"It cleans you. You rub it against yourself."

Peter pursed his lips, rubbed it against his forearms, and then felt at the soapy fur. An ecstatic smile came over his face, "It's soft!"

"And you have to wash it off afterwards." Red pushed his arm under the water.

Peter happily began rubbing at himself with the soap, "Okay!"

* * *

The Wolf came back to Red's house to find Peter on the bed, wrapped in a soaking wet towel, and Red dressing. Squeaking when he came in, Red clutched her corset to her chest, squawked, "Get out! Get out!" 

The Wolf pursed his lips, backed out of the room.

After a few more minutes, Red stomped out, furious, "Haven't you ever heard of knocking?"

"Yes, but I don't care. Peter actually got into the water?" The Wolf peered over her head at his little son, who was holding Pinocchio close to his face, whispering secrets.

"Yes, he did. You could have told me he was scared of water."

"Yes, whine and complain. That'll always help." The Wolf scratched at his chest before shoving past Red and heading for his son.

Peter giggled as Pinocchio muttered something sullenly back, but froze when he felt weight tilt the mattress as the Wolf sat at the edge.

"What are you telling your pet, Peter?"

"… That I used to have a bunny."

Pinocchio said sarcastically, "And all the details of it. Seventeen white splotches, fourteen black, and a gray undercoat. I don't need to know every little detail!"

Peter smiled, "But you do so you can imagine it! Just like me!"

"…Yay…" Pinocchio sighed, a bit offended.

The Wolf reached forward, grabbed Pinocchio, and held him up. Squinting his eyes, he muttered softly, "Be happy. Make my son happy. Or I'll throw you into a fire."

Pinocchio stuck out his wooden tongue at the Wolf, "I hope you burn in flames yourself one day! Or get your head separated from your neck and suffer the same indignity that I'm having!"

Chuckling, the Wolf turned, tossed Pinocchio's head to Red, who caught it with a yelp of surprise. He smiled, "Take him to that hospital of yours. They'll take years carving him a new body. Might as well get started, shouldn't they?"

Pinocchio squawked angrily, "And when I get my new body, you'll wish you'd never axed me to bits!"

* * *

Red took Pinocchio's head to the hospital, whose doctors redirected her to a carpenter shop on the main street. On the way, Red pleaded with Pinocchio to not tell anyone that the Wolf and Peter was staying at her house. Grudgingly, he promised.  
The carpenters, close friends of the puppet, took Pinocchio from her, inspected him as he squeaked what he wanted, and then nodded, "We can do this. Especially for you, Pinocchio!" 

Relieved to have a disembodied wooden head off her hands, Red went straight home to find the Wolf asleep in the bathtub, Peter under his gentle arm. Smiling, she closed the door and, scavenging up her small purse, went out to buy food. On the way, however, she caught sight of Hansel up ahead at the street corner, waiting for her with narrowed, sparkling eyes.

Sighing, Red walked on, feeling Hansel's stare intensify as she neared him. As she passed, she whispered, "I'm not Gretel."

Hansel's hand seized her arm, stopped her from walking past. Glancing up in surprise, Red saw Hansel's tears were red and puffy from a bad night's rest. Voice tired and miserable, he mumbled, "Gretel… Please… I miss you…"

Red stared at his face before blinking and asking in a small voice, "What do you want me to do?"

"Please… Stop running away from me…" sobbed Hansel dryly, receiving a bewildered glance from a lady who walked past. "I just want to be your brother again…"

"… You were never my brother to-"

Suddenly, Red was Hansel's arms as he sobbed into her shoulder, "Gretel, don't say that! Please, don't say that! That will kill me!"

Red shuddered in uncomfortable nervousness before sighing, hesitantly hugging Hansel back, and whispering, "Fine, fine…"

Hansel sniffled wetly as he straightened, eyes dribbling tears down his cheeks. Wiping at them vainly, he mumbled, "Please… Will you come live with me? We're brother and sister… People won't talk…"

Red groaned before replying, "What about my house instead? I can give you a little side room and- What?"

Hansel's sobs had grown louder, more ragged, "Gretel! Oh! I'm so h-h-happy…. We'll finally be able to live together…"

Red closed her eyes and rubbed at her forehead, hoping the headache that now plagued her would go away soon.

* * *

**OOC: Due to vacation plans, I probably will be not able to post for the next few days. Happy Thanksgiving!**


	26. Peacefully Coexisting ' Not Really '

The instant the Wolf saw Hansel in Red's kitchen, he froze, stared, blinked, and then clamped his mouth shut tight. His fur stood on end as he appeared to take a long, deep breath. Next moment, he roared, "How dare you come here, Hunter? I will rip you apart and devour you whole!" He lunged forward, eyes furious and narrowed.

In one quick movement, not even glancing up from his small snack of buttered toast, Hansel drew a dueling pistol out from under his shirt, aimed it at the Wolf's head. As the Wolf froze, eyes locked on the gun, Hansel coughed, set down his toast, and muttered, "I don't want to fight."

The Wolf backed away, furious. Prowling to the opposite side of the kitchen, he slammed open a cupboard angrily, dragged out a pitcher of water, poured himself some in a glass, and then drained it. Setting the glass down, he turned to Red, who was making soup, and hissed, "What is he doing here?"

"…He followed me home."

"Then cast him out! I do not want him here!"

Hansel chewed at his toast, swallowed, and said cheerfully, "So… Wolf. You know I can hear you, right?"

"I don't care! Get out!"

"…It's Gretel's house. I follow her rules, not yours."

"Red! Tell him to get out!" whined the Wolf.

Red glared up at him, "Actually, he's going to live her for a while. So stop complaining and-"

The Wolf shuddered with rage, "Live here? Peter lives here! You cannot have them anywhere close, do you understand? The hunter will kill him!"

"… Hansel…?" Red glanced at the man.

"I won't touch him." Sniffed Hansel, crossing his arms in front of him. "Just as long as I get to be with Gretel and she pays just a little bit of attention to me."

The Wolf rumbled a growl angrily before storming from the room.

* * *

The Wolf came back late in the night, found Hansel curled up at the foot of Red and Peter's bed, and essayed to devour him. However, Hansel shot him two times before Red chased both of them out of the room. Now, glaring into the mirror, the Wolf flinched as he reached into his mouth, felt the bleeding bullet hole. He slid a claw down the tract, gagging, until he finally found the bullet, tore it out, and threw it angrily into the washbasin.

Hansel stood against the door, tapping the newly-loaded pistol against his thigh, "Well… that looks like it hurts…"

The Wolf hissed at him before turning back to the mirror. Lifting his chin, he felt through his fur till he found the second bullet hole, grimaced, and began his search for the second bullet.

"You were the one who attacked me." Scolded Hansel. "It's not my fault I had to shoot you."

"You could have stayed still so I could have swallowed you, not shoot me in the mouth!" The Wolf gasped as he squeezed the bullet from the wound, grabbed it, and inspected the small ball of lead before plopping it down in the washbasin with a grumble.

Hansel wheezed a laugh, "And be digested? Sorry, but I've had enough experience in my life to know that is not what I want to happen."

"…Shut up…" Miserable, the Wolf turned to the tub, slipped in, and settled down with a sigh.

Hansel appeared, leaning over the side of the tub, "…I'd ask to sleep in there, but I don't trust you."

"If you want someplace warm, my stomach is a valid choice." Sniffled the Wolf.

"No, but thank you for your kind offer." Hansel turned, paused, and then glanced back, "Do you really hate me that much?"

"Here, let me spell it out for you: one, you've cut me open; two, you've stolen my meal; three, you've filled me with stones and tried to drown me; four, you've shot me; five, you've shot one of my older sons; and, six, you tried to kill my blind little boy!" The Wolf trembled with fury.

Hansel smiled softly, "And you tried to eat my little sister. I think it evens out."

"It doesn't."

Hansel's eyes flashed before he struggled to smile, "I would really be quiet now, or I may be tempted to shoot you again."

"Go ahead. I'll have a few moments afterwards while you're loading another ball and your powder." The Wolf lifted his lip and bared his yellowing teeth.

Hansel chewed at his lip for a moment before sighing, bending down, and petting the Wolf on the head. Outraged, the Wolf snapped at the proffered limb, but missed as Hansel jerked it back. Chuckling, Hansel knelt, rested his head on the side of the tub, and gazed down at the Wolf before asking quietly, "You like meat?"

"… Are you blind?" hissed the Wolf, glaring up at him, watching the pistol in the man's right hand warily.

"That's what I thought… You know, when I was a little boy, me and Gretel were abandoned in the woods… And we found this house…" Hansel's eyes shone with fond memory. "The prettiest little house you'd ever seen, made of candy, bread, cake, and sugar… And we had been starving for so long, so we ate a little part of it…" He paused, shuddering as his eyes grew hard, and then he continued with a monotone voice, "It belonged to a witch… She lured us in, enslaved us. I was to be dinner, Gretel was to be lunch, but the old hag wanted to fatten me up first, because she said she liked little boys all the more. But Gretel… Oh, but Gretel was a little, crafty mouse…" Hansel closed his eyes, moaned into his hands.

The Wolf slowly reached for the pistol, intent on knocking it out of the hunter's hand, but found it instead placed against his palm, Hansel glaring coldly at him as he added to his story, "She tricked the witch… She saved me. And then she had to go die before I could return the favor to my dear sister. Now… I have a second chance. I saved her from you, and it only makes me thirst for more. I will _always _be there for her, whether she wants it or not."

The Wolf smirked, "I don't think she does."

The barrel of the gun drew back from his palm as Hansel sighed and shrugged, "No matter, no matter… She's still my beloved Gretel."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"…_Why_ am I telling you this? Hmm… I must have gotten off-track. Let's see… We were talking about hate, and then… Oh yes. Meat." Hansel turned his icy blue eyes to the Wolf and smirked, "You like meat."

"Something wrong with that?"

"I like meat too. Just cooked."

"Not the same. And don't you dare compare yourself to me. I'm not some bliddy hunter who goes around cutting people open."

"… I don't do that…" said Hansel sorrowfully.

The Wolf snapped back at hi, "Then what do you call what you did to me?"

"Heroics."

Groaning, the Wolf laid back in the tub, put his hands up to his face, and whimpered into them, "You really are insane!"

* * *

The Wolf and Hansel managed to 'peacefully' coexist for the next two days, staying away from each other, glaring at the other warily. However, on the third morning, Red awoke to the Wolf's howls.

"No! No! Look what you did!" The yells softened to loud sobbing.

Red moaned, flopped out of bed, and ignored Peter as he squeaked in fright, "What's happened to papa?" Stomping down the hall, Red saw the bathroom door open. Sounds of a scuffle came from inside. She was about to storm into the room when Hansel stumbled out into the hall, his blood-covered knife in one hand, a long length of fur in the other. On his face was a maniacal smile.

The next moment, the Wolf charged out of the door, his back bare and bleeding freely. Slamming into Hansel, he hissed in fury, snapped his teeth angrily around the man's shoulder. Hansel was unresponsive except a harsh laugh as he buried his knife back into the Wolf.

The Wolf yanked away, pawing at the knife in pain, and then ripped it out. Throwing it to the side, he prowled closer to Hansel, eyes red with rage and hurt. Hansel, composed and irrational, smiled tauntingly, whispered, "You got yours."

The Wolf whipped forward, slammed him against the wall, and then howled with pain as Hansel struck the knife wound harshly. Stumbling backwards, grasping the bleeding stab wound with one hand, the other reaching behind him to see what damage was done to his back, he sobbed through his rage, "You bliddy hunter…"

Hansel smirked, held up the fur, "Missing something?"

The Wolf began to rush forward, but Red placed herself in between them and yelled, "No! No more fighting!"

"But-" started the Wolf.

"Hansel! What the heck were you thinking?"

"…" Hansel regarded her with happy eyes, "I'm going to make you a coat."

"I don't want a-"

The Wolf fell to the floor, sobbing. Weakly, he repeated, "You wanted to make her a coat?"

"Of course… I don't want her to be cold, and you have so much fur that I thought-"

"Curse you to hell!" snarled the Wolf, pulling himself back into the bathroom feebly. He shut the door behind him. Immediately, Red heard a wrenching sob which made her heart shudder in confused fury.

Whirling to Hansel, she hissed, "Get out!"

Hansel stared at her, his triumphant smile falling from his face, "What?"

"Get out of my house!"

Eyes growing wide, Hansel pouted, "But… I didn't do anything wrong… You never made me promise not to hurt _him_, just the little one…. And he's still alive, isn't he?"

"Out!" Red grabbed his bloody sleeve, towed him down the hall towards the front door.

Hansel hissed, ripped his arm out of her grasp, and fled down the hall to disappear into his side room. Slamming the door behind him, he locked it, slid down to sit against it, and listened to Red stomp till she stood in front of it.

"Hansel!"

Miserably, Hansel whined, "...Gretel… He's still alive… His fur will grow back… Don't make me leave…"

"Fine! Just never do it again! If you do, I will never be your sister!"

The door creaked open to let Hansel's terrified, teary eyes peer out, "No, don't do that!"

"Promise!"

"I promise I won't hurt your wolf friends! Just, please, let me stay with you!" Opening the door all the way, Hansel fell to Red's feet, clutched at them as he restrained tears, "Please!"

Unnerved by Hansel's actions, Red stepped out of his hold and watched him glance up at her with a flushed face. Grudgingly, she muttered, "I said you could if you promised… so no more tormenting the Wolf!"

"Yes, Gretel… Anything for you, Gretel…" Hansel stood up, reached out, wanting a hug.

Red slapped his hands away, "No. You're covered in blood."

"I can't wash up. The Wolf has the bathroom." Hansel glanced down at his hands, seeming surprised that she had refused him a simple embrace.

* * *

It took quite a few knocks from Red before the Wolf finally opened the door. The fur on his face stained with tears, his snout soaked with blood, he whispered softly, "What?"

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"…Can I help? Do you need anything?"

"…" The Wolf took her hand softly, pulled her weakly in.

Red groaned when she saw the bathroom. Blood was splattered against the floor, the walls, and covered the tub's wooden sides with a dark, slick coat. The mirror had a couple of bloody prints upon it, where the Wolf had supported himself as he had twisted to see the damage done.

"…I think I messed up your bathroom." muttered the Wolf, laying down upon the floor and flinching as his back panged in agony.

"You _think_?"

"… I'm sorry." mumbled the Wolf.

Red sighed, knelt by him, trying not to glance at the wicked wound upon his back, "What can I do to help?"

"…Bandages?"

"I'll get some."


	27. The Coat

After helping the Wolf wrap bandages around his wound, Red set to work scrubbing the bathroom clean as the Wolf dozed wearily next to a concerned Peter. The blood took a full two hours to scrub away, and the tub needed a couple of rinsing outs before Red deemed it worthy of being a tub again.

She boiled several pots of water, hastily washed herself off of the Wolf's drying blood, and then dressed in the bathroom. Not bothering to empty the tub and refill with clean water, she fetched Hansel, angrily told him to clean himself of the blood that splattered across him. Hansel didn't seem to care but reluctantly followed her instructions.

While Hansel was inside the restroom, Red was on her knees on the carpet, scrubbing at the blood in the greenish material. However, after a couple of minutes of working, she gave up, knowing that this amount of brackish blood would be impossible to remove from the carpet. Deeply annoyed and tired, she went into her room, took a spare blanket from the closet, and went to sleep in the corner.

That night, the Wolf woke her up, hunched over to avoid cracking the scabs on his back. Red hurried to make him soup, undressed him of his bandages, applied some salve to the wicked black wound, and rewrapped him in new, clean bandages.

The Wolf fell to sleep immediately after eating his soup, exhausted from the pain. Red left him in the kitchen and went to comfort Peter, who was worried for his father.

"Is papa going to be okay?" asked Peter quietly as he felt for her hand.

"Yes. He'll be fine." Red patted him on the head softly.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"You're not lying to me to make me feel better?"

"No."

"…Okay then…" Thrumming happily, Peter snuggled up against her, his little paws curling up in her pajama top as he closed his eyes, nestled his snout under her hand.

* * *

For the next three days, the Wolf lounged around the house, trying to evade Red so she wouldn't change his bandages. Whenever she cornered him, a clean length of cloth in her hands, he would curl up and whine, "I don't want you to worry… Leave me alone. You're making feel helpless... Go away..." 

Red did not listen to him, always forced him to lift his arms and let her rewrap the wound.

Hansel, who had stayed in his room with nary a sound, finally came out after his third day cooped up. Vainly searching the house for Red, who had gone to the market to buy more soup ingredients, he finally gave up. Ignoring the Wolf, who was asleep by the warm stove, he wandered into Red's room and sat on the bed.

Peter, who was playing with a little toy Red had scavenged up from her attic for him, glanced up, whispered, "Marie?"

"No." muttered Hansel.

"…Hansel?" Peter's fur puffed up.

"Yes."

Peter curled up around his toy, fingers trembling. He whispered, "Are… are you going to hurt me…?"

"No."

"…Thank you…" Peter disappeared under the covers, shuddering.

Hansel gazed into the distance for a moment, eyes cold with annoyance, and finally turned to reach under the covers. Squeaking as the man's hands gripped the loose skin around his neck, Peter fell limp with fright as Hansel dragged him back up. Hansel let go, watched a few strands of fur float off his hand, and then mumbled, "Are you scared of me?"

Peter clutched his toy to his chest, trying to rid himself of the pounding feeling in his chest. Shivering, he managed a nod.

"Why?"

"Y-you hurt papa…. and Marquis… and you have a thunder-stick that goes boom…" Peter's eyes filled up with tears.

Hansel gazed at Peter before a malicious smile crept upon his face. Reaching out, he tapped the little wolf on the nose, "You're sick."

Peter nodded miserably.

"And you can't walk."

Peter let out a sob, "You don't have to tell me that again! I already know!"

Hansel scoffed, "You'd be an easy hunt!"

Crying silently, Peter turned from Hansel, stuck his head under the pillow, and sobbed. Smiling widely, his heart fluttering with the joy of tormenting his enemy's son, Hansel stood, grabbed the toy Peter had left upon the top of the covers, and, drawing his knife, slit it open. He pulled the cotton stuffing out, ripped the fabric, and then threw it over the bed and the sobbing little wolf.

Turning, he smirked, "Stupid wolves…"

* * *

Red came home from the market, laden with a bag of vegetables and a small chicken. She put everything away, watched the sleeping Wolf for a minute as she contemplated whether to wake him or not so she could change his bandages, and then went to her room. The instant she saw the ripped up toy, she froze, stared, and then sighed softly, "Peter…" 

Uncurling from his fetal position under the covers, Peter poked his head out from under the covers, the fur around his eyes matted with dried tears. Sniffling wetly, he whimpered, "Marie…? Is that you?"

Ignoring his question, Red came over, bent, and began to pick up the little dots of cotton and cloth, "Ah… and this was one of my favorites too…"

Peter blinked, hugged a pillow close to him, "What was?"

"This toy…"

"It's broken?"

"…Yes… What did you do to it? Eat it?" Red held up the toy's head, pursing her lips.

Peter whined, "I didn't do it! Hansel did it! He made me cry and he took the toy away!"

Red stiffened before rolling her eyes, turning, and growling, "I'll go talk to him…" She stomped angrily from the room.

* * *

The second she knocked at his door, Hansel wrenched it open, caught her with his hands, and hugged her happily, "Gretel! I was looking for you!" 

Red glared glumly over his shoulder, painfully reminded how short she was when she felt her feet waving in the air. "…I came to talk about Peter. Why the heck did you-"

Hansel shushed her, set her down. "No, no! No wolf talk now! I got something for you!" He scurried back into his room, which was incredibly bare except for a muddle of blankets in the corner. Disappearing behind the door, he unhooked something from the coat rack there, rounded the door, and held up his gift, beaming, "See?"

Red stared before snapping, "I told you! I don't want a coat!"

Hansel was holding a coat made from the skin he had cut off the Wolf's back. He had meticulously brushed the gray fur down, making it appear sleek and soft. Little fluffs of other fur made up the lining for the neck and the cuffs.

Frowning miserably, Hansel let his hands drop to his front, still grasping the coat, "You… don't like it?"

"No, I do not! You cut that fur from the Wolf's back, Hansel! I saw the blood!"

"I cleaned the blood off of this." muttered Hansel.

"I don't care!" Snatching it from him, Red scrunched it up in her arms before hissing, "No more making presents for me! And stop harassing Peter!"

Hansel gazed at her sullenly, "I didn't do anything to him…"

"You made him sad! Just… stay away from him, understand?"

"…Yes…" Turning, Hansel walked back into his room, shut the door glumly behind him.

* * *

Red successfully kept the Wolf away from Hansel and Hansel away from Peter for the next two weeks, threatening each of them with banishment from the house should they commence another quarrel. During this time, she also found out that the Wolf wished to stay for the winter ended, or at least till the snow melted away. As if on cue, the second week brought snow and clouds instead of warmth and sun. 

The kitchen became the most used room in the house, for it had the stove. The Wolf always curled up right before it, basking in the undulating warmth that crept out from it. Now confined to the house for the most part, Red would sit behind him, sewing little mittens and socks for Peter, who complained of the coldness of her room. Unlike everybody else, Hansel despised the stove's warmth, stayed in his room with the windows cracked open to let in the chilliness. This was, for the most part, the reason why the house was so cold.

The third day of the third week brought a knock at the door.

Hurrying up, Red placed her sewing on the table as the Wolf glanced up curiously. She called loudly, "I'm coming! I'm coming!"

After pulling on some gloves and a thin wool jacket, she yanked the door open.

Blue hurried past her, blowing on his hands. He wore no coat or mittens. "Ah! I-i-it's cold out there! Shut the door!"

"Blue!" Red hurriedly shut the door before pouncing on Blue and hugging him.

"Gee! You're warm!" Blue shivered in her embrace, shedding some snow from his shoulders and hair.

"What are you doing here?"

"I heard from Bo that you were back from your vacation or whatever, and I haven't seen you since the Hallow's Eve Festival, so I thought I'd drop by, say a 'hello'. God, do you have a _fire_?" Blue hurried down the hall.

The Wolf had disappeared from his lazy position on the floor when Red peered in. Blue sat by the fire, warming his trembling hands, his cheeks rosy. Red giggled, "Of course I have a fire!"

"Mm… A very good fire it is." sniffed Blue, scooting closer to it, a look of extreme satisfaction coming across his face. "Very warm… Say… Could I borrow a coat for when I go back? I snuck out from watching my little brother and my mom took my coat with her so I wouldn't do that, but I still did. Couldn't just ignore the fact that you were gone for a few weeks and then came back! Maybe I could say I came to borrow sugar or something..." He smiled jokingly.

"Sure. You want this one?" Red tugged at the wool jacket off.

"Please and thank you. So… Where'd you go to vacation?"

Red sighed. Is that what Bo Peep was telling everyone? "Um… To visit my cousins."

"Was it nice there? Sunny still?"

"Yes."

"Bet it's a lot warmer than here right now… Fie, I wish it was warmer…" Blue muttered under his breath before standing, walking over to Red, and taking the jacket from her. "Promise not to tell that I skipped out on my brother?"

Red laughed, "Why do I suddenly have the feeling that you just came for the fire?"

"Now why would I do that?" Blue leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek playfully before skipping away with a chuckle as Red slapped at him. "I came to say hi to one of my best friends! And for the fire. Could you really believe that of me?"

"Hey! You can't do that!" Red rubbed at her cheek, giggling.

"Oh dear! I seem to have awakened the angry Red monster!" Scrambling out of the kitchen, Blue laughed loudly before calling happily, "See ya, okay? Probably this weekend? We'll go spend the night at Bo's or something and play knucklebones?"

"Sure!" Red walked out into the hall to smile at him and wave.

Blue grinned back widely before disappearing back out into the flurry of snow and shutting the door against the white.

* * *

That night, Red shuddered in bed next to Peter, who was curled up in an attempt to conserve his body heat. Why did it have to be so cold? She had half the mind to storm down the hall, raid Hansel's room, and nail the window shut, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was such a long ways away, and she didn't want to move from underneath the covers…

Minutes passed, her skin grew goose-bumps, and, finally, Red angrily sat up, slid out of bed, and headed for the door. However, as she passed her wardrobe, she paused, licked her lips, and creaked open the door. There, scrunched down into the corner, was the fur jacket that Hansel had made for her. Red bit her lip before grabbing it, tugging it on, and hurrying back to bed.

It was long on her, reaching three-quarters down her thighs. The sleeves hung over her hands with an extra few inches. The soft, caressing fur around the neckline, probably rabbit, warmed the bottom of her chin almost immediately.

It only took a few minutes for Red to fall asleep in the new wave of comforting warmth.


	28. Warmth and Porridge

When Red woke up, it took a few moments for her to register where she was. Instead of the mattress, she lay upon the cold tile of the kitchen floor, surrounded by the comforter of the bed and several other blankets. Peter lay in front of her, whimpering in his sleep, his right hind leg jerking as a response to his dream. Behind him, Red saw the Wolf bending down by the stove, stuffing some balled up pieces of parchment and small logs inside.

Sitting up with a yawn, Red wiped the sleep boogers from her eyes, "… Why are we on the floor?"

The Wolf glanced back, smiled softly, and then closed the stove's door. Creeping over Peter and Red, he laid upon a blanket, curled up against Red, and explained quietly, "It's too cold for Peter. He would have gotten sick... So I brought him in here, and I couldn't help but notice that," He nuzzled her with the tip of his nose before whispering, "you're wearing my skin…"

Red glanced down, having forgotten of the coat, and then blushed. She started to pull it off, "I'm… sorry…"

The Wolf's hand stopped hers. Softly, he whispered, "No… Keep it on… You'll be cold, and then you won't make me soup 'cause you'll be frozen."

Red glanced over at him, smiled hesitantly, "Oh… Okay then… Um… Thank you…"

Not responding, the Wolf crawled over her, opened the stove's door again, and stuffed another log in. "I'm trying to get this room warm as possible… The warmer you are, the more heat you give off… That's how it works, right?"

"I… guess so…"

The Wolf licked his lips, closed the oven door, and then lay down next to Peter. Snuggling up to him, he moaned softly, "… Red…?"

Red shrugged the covers up over herself, seeking all the warmth she could get. "What?"

"Do you have a hammer and some nails?"

* * *

After piling more blankets around Red and Peter, the Wolf stormed Hansel's room, startling the man awake, and, after ousting him from the room, angrily nailed the window shut. All the while, Hansel griped and whined.

"Oh, c'mon! I like the cold! Nothing good comes from being warm every day! It makes you tougher!"

The Wolf ignored him, threatened Hansel with a long, prolonged death should he force the window open again. Hansel grudgingly heeded his warning, sat sulkily in the corner of his chilly room. The house warmed up quickly, and the Wolf even opted for a bath. He heated his own water, poured it into the tub, and locked the door before stripping of his ragged and torn pants. As he slid into the water, he groaned in satisfaction, basking in the hotness that still lingered in the liquid.

He stayed in the water for a long while, just relaxing, and then scrambled out when Red angrily knocked on the door, having to relieve herself. Wrapping a towel around his hips, he hurried out of the bathroom, shooed Red in, and then sought for a private place to dry off and dress. Finally, he chose Red's room, put a chair against the door, and began to meticulously brush out his fur with his fingers. After a few strokes, he became distracted by the fur jacket, which Red had hung over the back of a chair in the corner of the room.

Straying over to it, he hesitantly picked it up, turned it around, and tried it on. He was a bit big for it, the jacket tight around his shoulders and arms, so he slid it off with a sigh. Then, hugging it to his chest, he stroked it, inhaling the scent of himself and the little girl who had spent the night in it. It was an intoxicating scent, to say the least, and he soon drifted off to sleep on Red's bed, happily curled up around the jacket made from himself.

Red tried several times to force her way into her room, ordering the Wolf to open the door. The Wolf, asleep, never heard her, lost in dreams. Finally, Red turned to Hansel, who was all too happy to kick open to door for her. However, the moment he saw the Wolf laying on her bed, he hissed angrily, drew his knife, and stalked forward, eyes flashing fury.

Red grabbed his arm, pulled him out of the room and back into the hall. "No! Thank you for helping me in, but I can go in and get my stuff by myself!"

Hansel glared after her as she turned, crept into the room.

Avoiding the bed, Red tiptoed to her wardrobe, rooted through the clothes, and drew out her pajamas. Now that the house was warm, she would be able to wear her true pajamas instead of the woolen pants and shirts she had been substituting for them. As she turned, she caught sight of what the Wolf held in his hands. With a curious but hesitant glitter in her eyes, she came over, tugged at the fur jacket.

The Wolf growled softly in his sleep, his claws clenching around the fur. His body was twisted in such a way that she saw nothing... _personal_.

Red sighed, let go of the fur, and watched as the Wolf curled up even more around the jacket, muscles twitching as relaxed. Turning, she muttered, "Have good dreams then, I guess."

* * *

The Wolf slept all that night just until the next afternoon, when he woke up warm and cheerful. Strolling out into the kitchen in his wrinkled, raggedy pants, he clapped his hands and asked, "Breakfast for your poor, starving houseguest?"

Red glanced up from the table, where she, Hansel, and Peter sat. Hansel had insisted on cutting Red's hair for some reason, and Red had finally given in after constant bothering. He stared at the Wolf as his scissors hovered next to Red's ear. On the opposite side of the table, Peter was happily scribbling on a piece of paper, making random patterns and calling it a 'picture'.

Red smiled, "Would you wait just a few more minutes?"

After watching Hansel resume cutting her hair, eyeing the scissors warily, the Wolf sniffed in disdain, "Why do you need a haircut? You're perfectly good the way you are. If you have shorter hair, it'll be like trying to swallow down a bottle-brush if I ever do decide to eat you…" He glanced down at his gaunt stomach, which grumbled miserably, and caressed it softly. "Plus… I'm hungry _now._"

"Can't you wait just a few minutes?" complained Red, frowning at the Wolf.

"…If you don't mind going through your cupboards to see what you got, no…" The Wolf wandered over to the cupboards, began to open them one by one, looking through them. After a few moments, he reached up, pulled down a bag of sugar, and sat by Peter. He set the bag upon the table, stuck his head in, and began to devour the sweet white sand.

Red and Hansel stared at him before Red snorted in disgust, "How can you stand eating it like that?"

The Wolf pulled his muzzle from bag, dusted granulated white. Sniffing, he smiled, "I like sweet things." He licked the sugar off of his lips before burying his head back into the sugar.

* * *

For the rest of the day, the Wolf tailed Red, eyeing her in such a way that she began to fear that he would try to eat her. To safeguard herself, she spent the day with Hansel, avoiding the Wolf and his hungry gaze. Hansel, who had also noticed, wanted desperately to take a knife to the Wolf's heart, but Red would not let him.

That night, Red tried to drag Peter back to the bed, but the Wolf refused to let him go. Nudging all the blankets and pillows into one big pile in the corner closest to the stove, he lay his son down before sitting on the edge of the blankets, watching her with hungry eyes as she stared at him, unsure of what to do. Finally, she muttered, "What?"

The Wolf licked his lips, leaned back, "That's what I should be asking."

"You're staring at me… like you're going to eat me…" Red glared at him suspiciously.

"…If I told you that pure sugar is my worst enemy, would you believe me?"

"Huh?"

"Last time I had pure sugar, I mated. Every time I have sugar just straight from the bag, I want to mate…" The Wolf pulled the blanket over himself, watched Red with a narrowed, lusty eye. "And… since you are the only female around…"

Red snarled, disgusted, turned, and stomped from the room.

* * *

The next morning, the Wolf's sugar-induced lust had worn away, and he had fallen into an ornery and hissy mood. He willingly sparked a fight with Hansel, was shot once in the shoulder, and then demanded that Hansel be thrown from the house. Red, who had not seen who had commenced what, banished them both for a day. However, the Wolf broke back in that night, and Red woke up with the Wolf laying across her and Peter, snoring loudly. Angry, she shoved him off the bed, stomped to the kitchen, and, when he followed with his whines of hunger, she refused to make him breakfast.

In anger, the Wolf stormed from the house, only to be back at the door moments later, grumbling and shivering. After minutes of pleading, imploring, and apologizing, he finally rejoiced when Red allowed him back into the house and agreed to make him breakfast.

Wolfing down the porridge ravenously, the Wolf wiped his muzzle free of the oatmeal before holding out the bowl to the staring Red, "More?"

"…That was your third bowl."

"I could hold _pots_, remember? Bowls will not cut it. More?"

"…Fine…" Sighing, Red took the bowl, turned back to the stove.

As she filled the bowl, she heard the Wolf's chair scrape out, sighed, "Eat in the kitchen."

The next moment, the Wolf's arms rested upon her shoulders as he took the bowl and spoon from her. Putting his nose against her hair as he filled it to its brim, he whispered, "Don't skimp on me."

"…" Red watched as the Wolf carefully carried the bowl back to the table before falling upon it. Within moments, the bowl was empty, even licked clean, and the Wolf eyed her, ready to ask for more. Huffing, she took the bowl from him, started to refill it. When she heard the chair scrape back once more, she hissed and felt a red blush invade her cheeks, "I can do it myself!"

However, she froze when she felt the Wolf's clawed fingers softly stray through her hair, became painfully aware of his feet, which were tactfully placed on the back of her shoes so she could not move easily. The Wolf leaned forward into her, muttered, "Just give me the whole thing… Nobody's going to miss it, Red… And it doesn't have to disappear slowly while going cold and disgusting…"

Red shuddered, shoved back into him, and snarled, "Get off of me!"

"What fun would that be? You left me out in the snow for five whole minutes…" The Wolf snuffled through her hair, breathing in her scent. "And I was cold… I think I can torment you until you feed me." He snapped his jaws shut next to her ear.

"Can't you just… go talk to Peter or something?"

"He's asleep on your bed. I don't want to wake him." The Wolf blew at her hair, his arms crossing her chest to interlink. "And… I got you… Let's see… Should I just eat you? That'd be delicious enough…" The Wolf opened his mouth wide, gently mouthed her shoulder.

Red whirled around, slapped him angrily. As the Wolf stared at her, stunned, she hissed in fury, "Get out of my house!"

"…Red…" The Wolf took a step forward, froze when Red reached behind her, grabbed a knife from the counter, and brandished it.

"Get out of my house!"

The Wolf slunk back, his tail curling up in between his legs in submission, "… Fine… Fine… I'll go… But Peter must stay… He'll die in the cold and-"

"I don't care about Peter staying here! He's my friend! Now get out before I stab you!" Red wagged the knife at him, eyesight blurring in anger.

The Wolf slowly backed out of the room, a sad look upon his face as if to say, "All I wanted was my porridge…"


	29. Not a Murderer

Hansel came back to the house that evening, eager to resume his position as 'room-renter' and 'big brother' in the household. Upon finding the Wolf gone, he rejoiced, urged Red to throw Peter out to freeze lest the Wolf come back for his son. Red was furious, threatened Hansel with banishment should he even touch Peter, who seemed to be coming down with a cold as it was. Hansel, miserable for the rest of the day, tried slipping some white powder into the soup Red was preparing for Peter, but Red caught him, carried out her threat by locking him out of the snow and yelling, "If you dare to even touch my doorknob before the end of the week, I will never, ever, ever be your sister!"

Hansel, after minutes of whining and shivering in the snow, finally scurried away, anxious to find a jacket to protect himself from the intense cold.

For the next two days, Red watched over Peter, who had developed a small fever along with the sniffles. She complied to his requests to play with him when he was bored, to cuddle with him when he was sad, and to comfort him when he felt awful.

The Wolf reappeared the third day, looking rather sleek and full. He told her that he had gone back to the cave to retrieve Peter's favorite wolf toy, presented it to her to give to him. Thankful, Red immediately handed it over to Peter, who was overjoyed.

"My bunny!" He hugged the little patchwork wolf toy viciously, sniffling as his snout dripped snot.

Red and the Wolf watched him, smiles tugging at their faces. After a few moments, the Wolf let his head cock to the side, surveying his son, and then muttered, "Is it just me, or is he sick?"

"He's sick, but it's just a little fever and a runny nose."

"…Oh."

"Why do you ask?"

"…I just don't want him to… get any worse than he is now."

Peter froze on the bed, stared up with vacant eyes as he sniffled, "I'm bad?"The Wolf sighed, sat on the bed, and caressed his son, "Of course not, Peter."

"But you said-"

Red scurried to the other side of the bed, took Peter's hand, and stroked it gently as she whispered, "He was joking, Peter. You're perfect the way you are now."

Relaxing under her touch, Peter snuggled back down into the pillows, his toy wolf clasped in his paw, "Oh…. Okay then…" His eyelids fluttered as he yawned before he pulled the covers over his head and curled up beneath them.

The Wolf stared at the lump in the covers for a moment before glancing at Red and mouthing, "Thank you…"

* * *

Peter slept peacefully till the middle of the night, when he woke up to vomit over the edge of the bed. The Wolf, who had been sleeping there, sputtered up, swearing loudly, waking Red. So, as Red comforted the sobbing Peter, who had received a cuff over the nose from his father, the Wolf wearily went to wash himself off. After a brief ten minutes, he came out of the bathroom, returned to the room to find Peter fast asleep in Red's lap, fur still wet from tears on his face. Fuming silently, he stalked over, sat on the bed side, and grunted grimly, "You said 'fever' and 'runny nose', not bliddy vomit!" 

Red petted Peter's head softly, "…But he's alright now…"

The Wolf glowered at her sourly before curling up on the bed, tail touching the tip of his nose, and snorting, "I want to sleep with my son. It's been you comforting him, not me, and that kind of annoys me… I'm supposed to be the parent, not you."

"I'm not trying to be a parent!" hissed Red, turning red in the face.

"Well, look at Peter. I honestly think you've transcended the line of being 'just a friend' to a 'mother figure' for him…" Reaching over, the Wolf gently pulled Peter to him, who snuffled in his sleep, curled up his small fingers in his father's fur, and shivered.

Red glared at him, "You're joking, right?"

"Really, you haven't noticed?" The Wolf smirked at her, "That's like not noticing a glove sticking to your hand because it thinks you are its rightful owner. Don't you notice how he clings to you? When he wakes up, it's 'Marie', when he goes to sleep, it's 'Marie'. You know, it used to be 'Papa'…." He added the last part scornfully, eyes narrowing.

"Well, I wasn't hoping for that to happen! I just wanted to be his _friend_!" snapped Red.

The Wolf shushed her, watched silently as Peter rustled in his sleep before settling down. Softly, he stroked his son's patchy fur before murmuring, "It's better if he has a mother figure… It's just… I'm feeling a bit left out…" He put his arm over Peter, pulled him closer so that Peter's nose was buried in his fur.

"… Really?"

"Yes. Just a bit."

Red sighed, lay back down on the covers, and stared up at the ceiling. "I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't. Peter's just grown attached, that's all."

"…I suppose he has…" murmured Red.

The Wolf sat up, watched her for a few moments, and then slowly, carefully slid over Peter so that he could peer down directly into her face. Cocking his head to the side, he asked, "Are you okay with it? I personally would not want to break his heart. He'll die if his body has to go through any more torture, whether mental or physical… And I want to keep my son."

"I think you would." Red stared up at him.

The Wolf's eyes slowly narrowed, "And I think that means we're going to have to stay here for a long time…"

"What?" Red sat up, nearly hitting the Wolf in the nose. She stared at him in horror. "Not just for winter?"

The Wolf pulled back and, as he stroked Peter's ears, whispered, "I don't want to break Peter's heart, but I want to be there for him. The best way for that to happen is if both of us remain with you…"

"No, it's not! People are going to notice! For heaven's sake, _Pinocchio_ already knows and he'll come knocking with muskets and guns!"

"And I'll just eat them all up." snorted the Wolf angrily. "And they will learn to respect me and leave me to my peace. My quarrel is only with my prey, not everybody in the whole town."

"The whole town suffers when you eat someone!" hissed Red.

"I don't care." Sniffed the Wolf, disinterested.

"You should!" Struggling up off the bed, Red stormed towards the doorway, furious.

With an excited snarl, the Wolf leapt after her, seized her, and hugged her to his chest, "Now, now, where are you going?"

Red struggled against his lean but muscled arms, clawing at the gray fur, "Away from you!"

The Wolf chuckled, bent his head to her ear, and whispered, "You run, I chase. Now… why do you run?" He set his chin atop her head, smiled sharply as he waited for her answer.

"You're an uncaring, selfish glutton who likes to eat people! Why shouldn't I run away from you?"

"… Because I wouldn't eat you. Weren't you just paying attention? Peter would have a heart attack if I ate you."

"I still don't want to talk to a murderer."

Suddenly, she was on the carpet, the Wolf glowering down at her as he pinned her down with a back foot. Baring his sharp, yellowing teeth, he hissed, "What did you call me?"

Red stared up at him, eyes wide with fright.

Slowly kneeling upon her, he bent his head to her face and repeated himself angrily, "What did you call me?"

"A-a-a murderer?"

The next moment, a sharp force hit the side of her head: the Wolf's clenched hand. She stared up at him with dazed and disoriented eyes as he snarled, "I am not a murderer! I eat to survive! Do you call frogs murderers? Do you call little girls murderers? I am not a murderer! I will stand for 'monster' or 'freak', but I will not tolerate being called a murderer!" He drew his hand back again, ready to strike her across the face once more.

Red flinched, her eyes squinting shut in expectation for a heavy blow. However, the second dragged on before she squeaked, feeling the Wolf's cold nose against her neck as he tried to calm himself. His frame vibrated with ragged breaths as he filled his lungs with her scent.

"… Red… I am truly sorry… Just… please… do not call me that… and don't throw me out."

Red slowly glanced down at his head, saw his eyes squinted shut as he tried to restrain angry and guilty tears. His ears, which had just been erect with cheerfulness, were now laid all the way back against his skull, almost hidden the fur that had puffed up with fury. Hesitantly, she reached up, touched the tip of his right ear. The Wolf's milky eyes flickered open before he forced a smile. Standing, he wandered back over to the bed, lay down beside Peter, and hugged him somberly, seeking as much comfort as Peter immediately sought from his father's fur. As Peter cuddled up to him, shivering, he sighed softly, muscles still tense, fur still stark to show his inner rage. The large scab on his back, now exposed to Red, was the only part of him that wasn't fluffed out to reveal his anger.

Red, after a few moments of staring, staggered up, stumbled over to the bed, and slid back up.

Next moment, she was on the floor, gaping as the Wolf muttered softly, "If you want to sleep on the bed, you must have fur."

"You kicked me!"

"So I did."

"It's my bed!"

"I'm taking it over. Now, grow fur or leave us to sleep."

Fuming, Red stood, started to stomp towards the door. However, she paused at the opening, frowned, turned towards her wardrobe, rifled through it, and found the fur coat. Pulling it on, she stalked back to the bed, crawled on.

The Wolf chuckled grimly, "I guess that counts…"

"I have fur on. Now, shut up and let me sleep." Red growled grumpily as she snuggled beneath the covers.

* * *

**OOC (Otherwise known as 'Author's Note':**  
**From now on, my updates may be a bit more... sporadic. This may happen because:  
1) I have returned to school;  
2) I had every chapter up to this one already written out;  
and 3) My computer has collapsed into sudden fits of rage.  
I'll try to negotiate with it enough to post up at least one chapter every day or two**.**  
Anyways...** **Thank you to all those who have been reviewing. Your comments are especially endearing to me,** **(sometimes the only thing that lights up a day between Geometry and a hundred pages of Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_...)**


	30. Going out to Dinner

When Red awoke, the Wolf had her in the crook of his arm, Peter in the opposite arm, and had the two of them pushed up against his sides. His snores vibrated from deep in his chest, numbing Red's shoulder. Struggling to escape from his grasp, Red yelped when his claws curled up into her side, uncomfortable even through the fur coat. She stilled, waited for him to relax.

He grumbled softly in his sleep before, with a sudden wrench of his arm, he had pulled her up onto his chest. The grumble turned to a low purr as he murmured sleepily, "Peter…"Red was frozen in nervous horror. If she moved, she was sure the Wolf would wake up and wreak havoc when he found her on top of him, but, if she didn't move, he would wake up anyways, and that would be no better. She battled the two options against each other in her head.

The decision was set upon when the Wolf's hands tightened their hold on her as he clutched at something in his dream. Sighing, Red laid her head down upon his chest irritably, fumed silently, and waited.

It took another thirty minutes before the Wolf started to rustle awake. Turning, he almost crushed Red as he hugged her tight like a teddy bear. His hind leg found purchase over hers, hung there twitching as he frowned. Little, squeaking noises came from his open mouth before he gave a small yelp, woke up, and sat up straight, eyes wide and frightened. He stared over Red for a few moments before slowly letting his eyes fall to her.

Instantly, he was off the bed, bristling, "You were hugging me! How dare you?"

Red sat up, brushed the gray wolf hairs from her hair, "You were the one who thought I was a teddy bear!"

The Wolf shivered in fury, "Never touch me! Never-" He froze, sighed after a moment, and muttered, "My back hurts…"

Red stared at him for a few minutes as he shuffled uncomfortably before asking, "And…?"

* * *

"I can't believe I'm doing this." Muttered Red as she gently rolled the balls of her palms into the Wolf's scabbed back. 

The Wolf groaned in pleasure as the pressure hit tense muscles, forcing them to relax, "Remember when I said if I didn't have to eat you that I would keep you as my –Oh… That feels delightful…– housekeeper? I think… I would change that to masseuse… or something… You should keep the fur on… It suits you." He gestured a hand to the gray fur coat, which was bundled up on the floor.

Red felt something tickle at her back, twisted to see his tail wagging furiously. Sighing, she turned back to his shoulders, continued to massage the tight muscles. "It's hot in here… And I wouldn't want to be your… 'masseuse'..."

"Why n- Oh heavens… Did you hear that?"

"What?"

"Something just cracked… and it felt good…" The Wolf melted under her hands, moaning happily.

Red moved down his back, massaging as she went, earning pitiful squeaks of pleasure from the Wolf as she loosened his muscles. Finally, Red sighed, began to stand.

Rolling over, the Wolf caught her leg and whispered, "Keep doing it."

"Why? You're better now."

"…It still hurts… Just a bit…" The Wolf's eyes glittered. "Will you please continue?"

Red sighed, tried to wrench away, and grumbled when the Wolf refused to let her go. With a soft growl, he pulled her down onto his stomach, ordered gently, "Keep scratching."

He made her stay there for several more minutes, groaning as she scratched at his stomach and torso, his legs twitching reflexively. His fingers curled up into the skin of his palms, the hard, clawed tips digging deep enough to leave imprints. His tail, stuck beneath him, tried wagging, only to be defeated by the rest of his body weight.

When Red stood, stepped away from him, the Wolf moaned, rolled onto his stomach, propped himself up, and sped on all fours after her. Coming next to her, his head bobbing next to her chest, he butted her side, purring, "More?"

"No."

"Why not?" He took her hand in his mouth, his yellow teeth pressing down softly into her skin.

"…Could you not do that please?"

The Wolf's eyes glimmered with a mischievous light as he released her. However, as she stepped forward to escape his unnerving gaze, he twisted his body to block her, eyes gazing up at her as he whispered, "You are uncomfortable? You do not trust me?"

"…Not… really…"

The Wolf smiled, took her shoulders in his paws, and used them to stagger back up to his two hind paws. Steadying himself, he muttered, "Even when I trust you with my son?"

"…That's your choice. Trusting you is my choice."

"I would like to see some trust directed back to-"

Red and the Wolf jerked when they heard a rapid, frantic knock at the window. Glancing at the window, they groaned together when they saw Hansel.

"Gretel! Gretel! May I come in?"

Eyes narrowing, Red hissed, "I told you to stay away for a week!"

"It's been five days! That's a week at school! Please! Let me in!" Hansel pressed up against the window, jiggled at the frame, and then grimaced when he found himself with a splinter in his pointer finger. "And it's cold! Let me in!"

"That doesn't count as a week! Go back home!" Red turned, stomped out of the room, and fled to the kitchen.

A minute later, the Wolf wandered in, scratching at his stomach, "… If he freezes to death, can I blame you?"

"Huh?" Red glowered at him.

"I don't think he's going to move from your window…" The Wolf licked his lips before whispering, "And I like frozen food too, you know."

* * *

Red let Hansel in immediately, frightened that the Wolf would carry out his subtle threat. Shivering at the table, the Wolf eyeing him hungrily from his seat in the corner, Hansel muttered sullenly, "I'm not kidding. Five days is a school week.""I meant a whole week. As in seven days." Red stirred at the porridge, her eyes sneaking glances at the Wolf. She was afraid one of them would instigate an argument or a battle. 

"…Someone seems to not be using his ears correctly." Smirked the Wolf, grinning sharply. "Maybe he doesn't need them anymore?"

Hansel glared at him, "My ears are mine. Stay away from them."

"And my back was my back… Oh… And Red?"

Red slowly turned to glare at him. "What?"

"…Will you wear my fur?"

Freezing, Red stared at the Wolf before squeaking, "What?"

"…My fur...? Will you wear it?"

* * *

The Wolf was sullen and miserable after Red rebuked him, snarling that she would not wear his fur just because he wanted her to. He stole the bathroom for himself again, locked everybody out, and sulked in the tub till Hansel, pining for the chamber pot, begged him to let him relieve himself. Limping out, the Wolf curled up in the corner to continue his miserable fuming while Hansel rushed in. 

Red peeked out of the kitchen, saw him, and ducked back in. For a few moments, she gazed at Peter, who hummed happily as he scribbled over some papers with ink, and then sighed. Slowly, she wandered out into the hall. "Hey… Are you… all right?"

The Wolf's back, turned to her, fluffed up in annoyed sadness. "Go away…"

"…What's wrong?"

"You insulted my fur…"

Red rolled her eyes, "Look… I like your fur and all, but I just don't want to wear it right now… I mean, we're inside and the stove's on and there's no need to wear it."

"…But I want you to wear it…" he mumbled, his tail giving a small wag as he glanced up to gaze at her hopefully.

"…Fine…" muttered Red, stomping past him. She stalked to her room and glanced about before seeing the fur jacket in the corner. With a soft moan, she grabbed it up, pulled it on, and then slowly walked out of the room.

Instantly, the Wolf stood in front of her, shivering with delight, "It suits you."

Red glared up at him, "I'm going to start sweating now because of this… I'll have a heat-stroke and you'll be to blame."

"If that's the least of what I'll be blamed for, then I'd be most happy…" The Wolf rubbed at his stomach, sniffling softly. "I would be able to escape executions… Possibly be only stuck in a cell for the rest of my life… Be fed rats and gruel… I'm sure that that would be better than waiting for a sure execution."

Pursing her lips, Red pushed past the Wolf, "I'm not sure even _you_ would be able to stand being cooped up."

"You're right. I would start going insane." The Wolf's tail wagged wildly as he followed her, his stomach giving a small grumble.

Red stopped, glared at him, "You're hungry _again_?"

"Aren't I always? Want to be a nice girl and make me something delicious to eat?"

"…No… I really don't want to cook today… I was thinking of taking Peter to the tavern and paying for dinner. You know, they have a very good potpie… And Blue's dad works there. But it all depends on how Peter feels."

"Ooh… Potpie… Sounds good… Can I-"

"No! You cannot come!"

"Ah… Why not?"

"Because I said so and you eat so much and the whole town knows about you, so no!" Red glowered at him.

The Wolf's tail stopped wagging as his face fell. With a small whimper, he grabbed Red's arm and hissed, "So you're going to take Peter but not me? And what about that Hansel? Going to take him too and leave me here to starve?"

"…Last time I checked, you were fond of hunting."

"Not when it's snowing so hard! Let me go! I'll wear my overcoat and my hood! Please!" The Wolf clasped her hand in his, his tail wagging hopefully once more.

"No!"

"But wh-"

"Gretel… Is he bothering you?" Hansel peered out of the bathroom, his eyes narrowed.

The Wolf quickly released her. "No, I'm not."

"Gretel?"

"He's just being annoying, nothing much." Muttered Red.

Hansel grunted. Stepping out of the bathroom, he took Red by the shoulders, hugged her softly, and then whispered, "I heard something about dinner?"

Red groaned. Why had she ended up with two men who jumped at the very thought of food? Peter was fine, but two hungry men?

* * *

Peter reassured Red that he felt better, so the Wolf, out of the 'kindness of his heart', scavenged up some money and offered to pay for dinner on one condition: that he be able to come. Red reluctantly agreed. 

Now, she sat sullenly next to Peter, watching the Wolf and Hansel glare angrily at the other.

"Why do I have to sit by him?" grumbled the Wolf.

Hansel answered for Gretel, his voice low and miserable, "'Cause she doesn't want to sit by you, you big, great lout."

"Never asked you, you throat-cutter."

"Mmm… I would actually prefer shooting your brains out than cutting your throat… but Gretel doesn't want me to, so I won't." Hansel leaned into the back of the bench, pursing his lips, and sniffed.

Red groaned, "Can we not talk about yucky stuff like that, please? I agreed to let you two come, so… can you just please be friendly? Just for a while?"

Choking on his water, the Wolf set down his cup, hacked loudly, and then rasped, "You're joking, right? Be nice to _him_?"

"No. Just please… be nice to each other."

"Mm… Fine…" The Wolf sighed before muttering, "Where's that waitress with my steak?"

Hansel rolled his eyes, "You just ordered a few minutes ago, dumb one."

"So? They should hurry it up!" The Wolf raised his glass to his lips to take another sip.

"You're so impatient."

"Shuddup."

Peter's ears were twitching as he twisted about, listening to the soft chatters of the other people soliciting the tavern. His nostrils flared as he processed the smells of alcohol and sweat, and his fur puffed out under the heavy woolen coat that Red had given him. "Marie?"

"Yes?"

"…We get to share the shepherd pie, right?"

"Right."

"And pudding afterwards?"

Before Red could reply, the Wolf leaned over, patted Peter's hand, and asked, "You'll share that with me."

"Huh? What? But Marie might want it…"

"And you don't want to share it with your father?" The Wolf pursed his lips, the shadow of the hood covering the action.

Peter blinked, reached forward, and wriggled his fingers into the Wolf's fur. "I'll share it with you."

"Oh, thank you for offering so graciously." Muttered the Wolf sarcastically.

"…Papa? Are you mad at me?"

"No. Just-"

The waitress scurried up, carrying plates of food. She set the food down before the four before wandering off to take another table's order.

The Wolf grabbed up his fork instantly and stabbed at his steak viciously. Besides him, Hansel stirred at his soup in disinterest, seeming more bored than anything else. Before Red and Peter lay their shepherd pie.

Peter's hand crept out, felt for the pie, and, finding it, clutched at the side. Pulling it towards them, he smiled cheerfully, "Pie!"

Red smiled, "Yes, it's pie."

"…Spoons?" Peter began to feel about, trying to find an utensil.

The Wolf sniffed, handed him his fork, and stood, "I'll go get myself another." Tugging his coat closer about him, he wandered towards the bar, where the waitress now sat, talking idly.

Hansel sipped at his carrot soup, cast a secretive glance at the Wolf's back, and then smirked, "What I would give to have all the hunters in here gang up on him…"

Peter squeaked in annoyance as Red glared at him. With a strained voice, she growled, "Don't you even say a word."

"I might not have to." Mumbled Hansel as a shadow fell across Red and Peter.

Slowly, Red turned around to see a grim-faced man. "Uh… Hello?"

"Hello, Red… Why are you here… with a wolf?" The man bent and glared at Peter.

Peter's ears twitched before he glanced about blindly, "Who's that?"

The man glared at him before glancing at Red, "Why are you here with a wolf, Red? I wouldn't expect that from anyone nowadays, especially you!"

"He's my friend." Muttered Red.

"And Hansel? What's your excuse?" The man directed a glower at Hansel.

"Gretel's friends are my friends…. In some little way." Said Hansel smugly, his eyes dangerous, "And her name is not Red, it is Gre-"

"It's Red." Red snapped at him.

"It doesn't matter. You're still Gretel to me."

Red was about to retort when she heard a little squawk from Peter. Glancing over, she saw Peter wiping at his chest sullenly, where the man had slapped his fork down. As Peter felt for a napkin, Red glared at the man and growled, "Don't do that."

"Why not? For all I know, he's related to the Big, Bad Wolf, that monster who's been hunting us!" The man grew red in the face, angry and suspicious.

All around, people were turning to stare at their table. Blushing furiously, Red hissed, "He's not, okay? Now leave us alone."

Hansel smirked down at his soup before glancing up in surprise when Blue scrambled from behind the counter and said angrily, "Miller! Stop it!"

"Or what?" sneered the man. "You'll set your father on me and have me kicked out? I'm just protecting the peace here! Wolves are rats who should all be killed!"

Peter stiffened, his fur standing on end, and then sniffled miserably, "I'm not bad, am I?"

Red glowered up at Miller as she replied, "Don't worry. I know lots of people who are a lot badder than you."

Nodding furiously, Blue placed herself in between Red and Peter and the man, "So back off! Leave Red and her friend alone!"

"I will not eat with a wolf in this-"

Miller froze as a strong, rough hand grasped his shoulder and spun him around. Blue's father, bristling, glared him straight in the eye and hissed, "And there will be no fighting in my tavern! All people are welcome here, and you have no say who eats here or not!" It was rather odd to see a thin, wiry man standing up to a larger, muscular one.

"Even a wolf? Are you crazy?"

"Yes, I am." Snarled Blue's father sarcastically. "And I don't appreciate how you refer to him. Get out."

With a snarl of fury, Miller punched him angrily, sending Blue's father tumbling back to the floor. Instantly, the men behind them, loyal patrons to the tavern, leapt up and attacked Miller.

In that split second, the relative peace spiraled down to chaos. Quickly, Hansel reached over the table, grabbed Red and Peter, and pulled them to him. Backing up, he dug his hand down into his waistband, drew out the dueling pistol, and, reaching into the other pocket to drew out a lead ball and a small packet of powder. He loaded the pistol.

Red groaned, "I thought you hadn't brought that!"

"Not when I'm with the Wolf." Hansel smirked, holding Peter up with one arm, hiding Red with his shoulder. His eyes glittered crazily, delighted at the coarse battle that was taking place in front of them. A bright smile lit his face.

The Wolf appeared at his side, twirling a fork between his fingers, "Ooh… What happened? Did I really take such a long time chatting with the waitress that I missed the build-up to a fight?"

"Over your son." Hansel's grin grew brighter.

The Wolf took Peter in his arms, caressed his ears, and then whispered, "I heard a part of it. So… I guess wolves are not particularly welcome into town anymore?"

"Why don't you take your hood down? I'm sure that you would get a very… pleasant reception from the townspeople." Hansel pressed back as two struggling men surged out of the main throng, punching at the other's face, and pushing each other down.

Blue staggered out, his nose bleeding, and stumbled over. Masking his blood, he whispered, "Hey, Red… I think you should go outside… I'll bring some food out, okay?"

The Wolf bent down, forced the boy's face up, and growled, "In the snow? Peter will catch cold, so no, thank you. We'll stay here, just," He grabbed Blue, pulled him away as a man reeled out and almost hit him, "away from the fists and kicks."

"…Oh… I can… show you the back room and-"

Miller lunged out of the throng, shoved Blue out of the way, and seized Peter as he hissed, "You little-"

Suddenly, he froze, eyes rooted on the barrel of the gun pressed against his forehead, as Hansel leaned forward and muttered, "You let him go now, or I'll blow your brains out and shove them down your throat."

Miller slowly pulled back, eyes narrowed and angry, "Hansel, how dare you put a gun to my head?"

Cheerfully, Hansel followed him, keeping the metal against the man's head, "Well, I do dare. Now, to return the question: how dare you put your filthy, drunken hands on Gretel's little friend? You know, if he died, Gretel would cry and cry and cry… And I don't want that." He bared his teeth in a grim smile.

"You shoot, you go to jail, Hansel."

"Asylum, actually." The threat didn't seem to faze the huntsman.

"…Please… don't shoot." Miller's eyes widened, watering and frightened. He had just realized what sort of person he was dealing with: the insane, aggressive type.

Hansel leered, pushed him away, "I really do want to shoot something. Don't tempt me. Now, step away."

Miller took a few hurried steps backwards before Blue's father, purple-faced, tackled him from behind.

* * *

The fight lasted for another two minutes before Blue's father ousted the main rioters and, apologizing, gave Red, Peter, Hansel, the Wolf, and the other 'peaceful' patrons free meals and drinks. 

Itching at his stomach in satisfaction, the Wolf leaned back into the chair, "Good steak. Hey, Peter? How do you like your pie?"

Peter glanced up, little bits of jellied raspberry staining the edges of his furry lips, "Huh? Oh… It's yummy. And the juice is too!" Peter reached for the cup, found it, and sipped at it happily before brushing at the food stuck on his fur.

Hansel groaned, placed his head into his hands, and muttered, "Should have skipped the soup for dessert…. Carrot soup? What was I thinking?"

The Wolf smirked, "Being an herbivore for the night? Pathetic. Stick with meat."

"I would have rather had flan or apple pie, thank you." mumbled Hansel, glaring at the animal who sat beside him. "I only eat meat the way _I _cook it."

The Wolf was about to reply when Blue appeared at the tableside, some wads of soft white cloth shoved up his nose. Smiling nervously at Red, he asked, "You want a dessert?"

As Hansel came to attention, eyes glittering as they gazed hopefully at the boy, Red blushed, "Oh… no, it's okay… You can ask Hansel though. He looks like he wants something."

Sighing, Blue turned towards Hansel, "What do you-"

"Gingerbread."

"Huh?"

"I want gingerbread." Hansel leaned forward, eyes sparkling darkly.

"Okay… I'll go… get that for you… Red, you sure you don't want anything?" Blue glanced at Red, hopeful.

"I'm sure."

"Not even an apple?"

Red laughed, causing Blue to blush more. "Blue! I'm full! I'll explode if I eat anything else!"

Blue smiled softly, scurried away. Snorting, the Wolf leaned back, sipped at his glass of water, and muttered, "Explode? Do little girls explode?"

"I was _joking_."

"And don't you dare wish that it really did happen." grumbled Hansel.

"What? Just think about it. It'd be just easier prey. I'm chasing after a girl and then, all of the sudden, -BAM!- they explode."

"That's what guns are for, stupid. Besides, aren't you the one who prides himself for being able to swallow things whole?"

"…Well, yes… But it would just be so much _easier_." The Wolf set down his glass, sighed, and then grunted, "I'm still hungry."

Peter's ears perked before he pushed his plate forward a bit, "You want some pie, papa?"

"I would be delighted to have some, Peter." The Wolf took the proffered plate, began to ravenously devour the remainder of the pie.

Blue appeared at the table side, pushed a gingerbread cookie to Hansel with a hesitant smile, "Here you go."

"Thank you." Hansel snatched it up. Breaking it roughly in half, he nibbled at it daintily, his pale cheeks gaining a bit of color as he chewed happily.

Blue stared at him for a moment, awed by this renowned and feared hunter, and then turned to whisper to Red, "Who's the one in the coat?"

"He's a… friend."

"Oh…" Blue blushed before whispering, "I like your jacket."

"Well, thank y-"

Hansel interrupted Red's 'thank you' with a snort, "The jacket? You like the _jacket_?" He chuckled loudly before muttering, "By the way that you're acting, you like much more than the jacket!"

Horrified, Blue hurried away, and Red glared at Hansel angrily, "You were kidding when you said that, weren't you?"

"Oh, Gretel… You must learn how to tell whether someone likes you or not."

"He doesn't like me!" pouted Red, her fists balling up on the table in front of her.

The Wolf smirked, leaned forward, and whispered, "I would agree with Hansel, but then I would have to say he is right." He jerked a gloved thumb at Hansel, who shot him a fierce glare, and then added, "So I'll just say this: that little boy is more than ready to jump to your side for your every demand."

"But it's Bo who has the crush on _him_!"

"So?" Hansel reached up, twirled a finger in his blonde hair. "If there's a girl who likes a boy, it doesn't really mean the boy likes that same girl. He might be ignoring the first girl's attention and be trying for the second girl's attention. So, in this case, Bo likes him, but he likes you."

"And you don't like anyone." Joked the Wolf.

"I do!" squeaked Red indignantly.

Hansel froze before challenging, "Who?"

Gulping, Red licked her suddenly dry lips and glared at him, "Friends."

"Who in particular?"

"Peter, Bo, Blue… maybe even you."

The Wolf cocked his head, joked, "Not me?"

"..." Red glared at him.

"…Oh… I think the whole 'I want to eat you' thing kind of killed it, huh?"

"And scaring me out my wits with Pinocchio's head!"

"That was fun." The Wolf nodded happily.

"It was not!"

"Was to."

"Was not!"

"Was-"

"Agree with my sister, beast." Grunted Hansel.

"I'm not a beast!"

"Let me correct myself then: You're an animal. Now, let me check my vocabulary…. Hmm… Last time I checked, 'beast' meant 'animal'." Hansel let a look of mocking awe cross his face. "Or should I just call you the universal term of 'idiot'?"

The Wolf glowered at him before muttering, "Don't make me attack you. I was looking forward to a nice, quiet evening."

"Very quiet, huh? A tavern fight is just what defines 'relaxation', doesn't it? Especially for a creature like you who thrives off chaos and destruction."

Before the Wolf could retort, Peter snuffled angrily, "Papa isn't like that!"

"You're right. Your 'papa' thrives off little girls and boys, doesn't he?"

With a hiss of anger, the Wolf shoved Hansel off the bench, "You little twerp! You make me sound like some twisted-"

"Is there some problem over here?" Blue's father suddenly stood at the edge of their table, eyes slits.

"Uh… no?" The Wolf glanced uneasily up at him before standing and muttering, "Actually… I should be going. I have something to… attend to."

Hansel glared up at him, "Going off to attack somebody?"

"No. I'm sleepy… Peter, you want to go home?"

Peter stared up at him before sniffling, "Only if Marie comes."

Red sighed, stood, "Fine, fine… It's way past bedtime anyway…"


	31. The Wolf's Mate's Grave

Red, Peter, and the Wolf returned to the house, went to sleep immediately. Meanwhile, Hansel wandered around the town, soliciting a few bars, and came back very early the next morning drunk.

When Red woke up, Hansel was passed out on the kitchen floor, the Wolf sitting over him. Eyeing the unconscious man as Red stepped in, he whispered, "I've been debating whether or not I should eat him… Do you mind?"

Red groaned, rubbed her forehead, and went to counter, "Please don't."

The Wolf sighed, leaned back, and continued staring at Hansel, "Oh well… He smells of strong liquor still, anyways… Eating him would make me sick. Can't stand alcohol when it's used for drinking… Terrible taste, really." He reached over his shoulder, scratched at the healing scab across his back before asking, "Did Peter sleep well?"

"Yes."

"Is he still asleep?"

"Yes."

"Huh… Okay then…" With a small grunt, the Wolf stood, kicked Hansel in the side with a grimace of distaste, and then grumbled, "I'm going out to hunt... I'll be gone till late tonight, probably."

"Huh? I thought you didn't like hunting in the snow…"

The Wolf smiled wearily, "I said that, but I need to go somewhere. So… leave the door unlocked, please." He turned, disappeared out into the hall.

Red scrambled after him, curious, "Where you going?"

Sighing, the Wolf turned, fixed an annoyed, narrowed eye upon her, "It is personal."

This response only fed the flame of Red's curiosity. "Where? Where?" She clapped her eyes in excitement, eyes hopeful as they gazed up at him.

The Wolf pursed his lips before turning back to the door, opening it, and stepping out into the cold snow, leaving Red to stare after him.

Red grumbled under her breath. Where was he going?

* * *

Hansel woke up two hours later, plagued with a headache. Wandering about the house, ignoring Gretel as he swore under his breath, he finally seemed to make his mind up after thirty minutes of aimless pacing. Red glanced up as he stalked past the kitchen door, clutching his thick jacket around him protectively. Blinking when she saw his musket over his shoulder, she sighed, put down her spoon, and called, "Hansel?"

She heard a soft groan from around the corner before Hansel's blonde head poked around the corner, ice-blue eyes angry, "Yes, Gretel?"

Red pursed her lips at the name, but ignored it. "Where are you going?"

"Hunting."

"Please tell me you haven't been hiding that in your room."

"What? My gun?" Hansel took it from its strap, held it in his hands, gazed down at it, and asked, "This? Yes, I've been hiding it in my room…"

Red groaned, silently fumed, and then asked sourly, "So… hunting?"

"Yep. I'll be back later… Maybe I'll get lucky and I'll shoot a duck or something you can cook… Have you ever had venison?"

"No." Red glowered at him. "Unlike you, I _like_ deer."

"Never said I didn't, it's just that I like them when they're dead and roasting… I _love_ venison." Hansel licked his chapped lips, imagining a good, warm meal, before blinking when he saw Red blush in anger, "Did I say something wrong?"

* * *

Hansel left immediately afterwards, avoiding Red's anger about his 'deer' comment. Now, two hours later, he crunched through the icy snow, letting his fingers drift up against the metal barrel of the musket, flinching at the icy pain that shocked his fingers. At his side hung a rabbit and two small pheasants.

The trees around him were stark and bare, black against the snow. He had been lucky enough to find the rabbit and the birds, but he wanted to find another thing, just for Gretel.

He stopped, gazing down at his wet clothes, and then slowly turned his eyes up to see a doe sniffing at a tree. Calmly, he reached up, slid the musket from its straps, and slowly eased it up against his shoulder. His right eye squinted as he aimed. Deep in his gut, he felt the clench of excitement.

The doe's ears perked, and she raised her head to glance about. With a small sniff, she settled her eyes upon Hansel. Her muscles stiffened.

Hansel licked his lips, began to ease down on the trigger, and then froze when a little faun tottered into the clearing. Its patchy, white-spotted fur, short and mahogany, was dotted with snowflakes.

Hansel sighed, dropped the musket to his side, and whistled. Surprised, the faun whirled around, tumbled over its on legs, and fell into a little pile of snow. Stumbling up, it stared at him with large, frightened brown eyes. Hansel smirked, strode forward.

The doe and faun scuttled away, frightened, and Hansel stared after them before smiling and turning.

He continued on, scratching at his stinging hands with a frown. After a small while, about ten more minutes, he found himself at the base of Autumn Hill. Thick pine trees, their needles green while the surrounding trees were naked and black, stood barring his path up the slope.

He glanced up, saw a pheasant sleeping up in one of the branches, and pursed his lips before lifting his musket and taking a shot. The pheasant squawked as the needles beside it exploded, took flight, and then flitted away.

Hansel cursed silently, set the musket down, and then took his powder horn from his belt. Pouring some of the white-gray powder in, he took a small lead ball from his pocket, slid it in, and packed it down with a small metal rod before starting up the slope.

The pheasant was gone. Swearing loudly, Hansel slid his musket back into his strap. He turned, muttering under his breath, and then blinked before turning his eyes back up the hill.

"Wolf?"

Further up the hill, the Wolf sat on a fallen log, hunched over his knees. Glancing down the slope, he smiled wearily, "You are so annoying, Hansel… Can't leave me in peace even when I'm nowhere near Red…"

Hansel smirked, trudged up the hill to him, and leered, "What are you doing out here? Freezing yourself to death? Didn't really mark you as the suicide type."

"No, no…" replied the Wolf gravely, "Just… visiting my mate… I buried her here… If the snow wasn't here, you'd see the little gravestone right there…" He motioned to the ground before him, smiling sadly. "Just… snow covered it."

Hansel glanced down to where the Wolf motioned, sighed, "You're visiting a grave in this chill? You really must be suicidal… Well, anyways, I'm going back to Gretel. I caught her two birds and a rabbit."

"… Mind sharing one? I've been here since when I left this morning…" The Wolf glanced up at Hansel, eyes sad.

For a few moments, Hansel stared down at the Wolf. Finally, he huffed, sat down next to him, and muttered, "Fine. Not that little sisters eat a lot." He untied the rabbit from his side, held it out to the Wolf.

The Wolf snatched it, and it had disappeared down his gullet in a second. Coughing, he patted his stomach and muttered, "Thank you."

"…Say nothing of it." Hansel stood, glanced over the Wolf's head, and then froze when he saw the pheasant sitting on the branch, its chest puffed out. Eye twitching, he raised his musket again, aiming for the bird, "Stupid bird. I'll get you. Up there taunting me like you think you've won."

The Wolf followed his gaze, chuckled, "Getting all heated up over a pheasant?"

"I shot at it, and I missed. I just want to know that I can hit it."

"What's the point?"

"What's the poi- I'm a huntsman, dullard!"

"So you are. So why do you have to shoot the pheasant? You've already have enough to feed Red and yourself and Peter."

Hansel glared at him, glanced back up, and saw the pheasant gone. Grunting angrily, he lowered the musket, hissed, "I base my life around being able to hit something with my gun. If I can't hit it, I don't eat. I just need to know I can still hit something and kill it."

"Like me?"

"I can't kill you for two reasons. One: you're some weird freak who doesn't seem to be even fazed by bullets; and, two: Gretel would hate me for it. If both of those reasons went away, I'd be more than happy to shoot you."

The Wolf hacked a laugh, "Shoot, shoot, shoot! You are obsessed with that gun, Hansel! Everything for you is 'shoot this', 'shoot that'! What is it? Made of gold?"

"No." Hansel glowered fiercely at the Wolf.

"What then?"

"Well, well, look who's asking questions!"

"What? I'm _curious_."

"It's _my_ life."

"So? I think you still owe me for my back."

"No, I don't!"

"Yes, you do!"

With a hiss, Hansel turned, stomped away from the log, and then froze when he heard the Wolf's paw-steps behind him. Glancing back, he bared his teeth, "I'm not going to tell you, so there's no reason to keep following me!"

"I'm done visiting my wife… And I can help you catch more food. I'm hungry too." The Wolf licked his lips.

Hansel stopped, lifted his musket in a threatening gesture, "You're in front. I don't want you to even dare be anywhere near my back."

"Oh… Do I look like I would attack you?"

"Yes."

"Well, I wouldn't, 'cause Red would banish me from the house… and I don't like sleeping in snow and developing cold-lung, thank you."

"Oh, wouldn't that be a precious sight?" smirked Hansel.

"But it would be excusable if you were in my stomach." retorted the Wolf.

"Why would I-"

"It'd be warm."

"And I would be dead."

"…Not for a few minutes."

"I know what acid does. I'm not a moron. So stop trying to lure me into letting you eat me."

The Wolf shrugged, "I'm hungry. Not much I can do about it and- Ooh… Look…" He froze, eyes rooted ahead.

Hansel followed the Wolf's gaze, saw the little faun sniffing at a tree, licking a small icicle. Pursing his lips, he glared at the Wolf, "And…?"

"Would you shoot it for me?"

"Why? We don't need all of that."

"I want to eat it. That's enough, isn't it?"

"I'm not going to shoot it for you."

"Guess I can chase it down then." The Wolf slowly transferred down to all four paws.

Before he could bound forward though, Hansel swung his musket's butt to the side, heard a small crack as it connected with the Wolf's face. Yelping, the Wolf flinched away, clasping his hurt nose as the faun jerked up, saw them, and sprinted off into the trees.

"What the heck did you do that for?" The Wolf snuffled wetly, pulling his fingers away from his black nose to see a few droplets of blood.

"I like deer. No chasing them."

"But I'm hungry!" The Wolf sat down in the snow, rubbed viciously at his nose, and then snorted out a small amount of crimson blood. Grimacing, he glanced back up, saw the deer had disappeared, and turned angry eyes up to Hansel. "And that would have been a perfectly good meal!"

"… You know, your whining is going to get you a bullet to the brain." hissed Hansel, his pale cheeks turning a furious red as his eyes narrowed.

"Oh, really? I don't think you could even if you wanted to, you little rat!"

Enraged, Hansel lifted his musket, aimed at the Wolf's head, and snarled, "What did you call me? A rat? Say that again and I'll blow your head off! I want the deer to live, so it lives!"

The Wolf stared up at the barrel of the musket before smirking, "You've been talking to Red."

Hansel froze before lowering the musket and grumbling, "What do you mean?"

"Wouldn't you have been the first one to shoot that deer?"

"…Shut up."

"Well, I'm asking a question, and you just gave me a bloody nose. You should at least _answer_."

"Fine!" Angrily, Hansel threw down his musket in the snow, crossed his arms, and glowered at the Wolf, "Red did say she liked deer! Happy now?"

"She wouldn't find out if you shot it for me."

"I don't even want to risk it, you gluttonous fool! She'll kick me out if I do anything wrong! She's really fond of doing that, you know?"

"I know, but it still gives you no reason to fear something. It'd be my secret too." The Wolf rubbed at his stomach sadly as he continued, "And I _am_ so very hungry, but my paws are frozen from sitting out here all day. The gun would be much quicker and much… easier, can I say?"

Hansel glared at him before muttering, "I will shoot _birds_ and _rabbits_ for you on the way home, but I will not shoot a deer just so you can make me feel guilty!"

"Guilty of what?"

"Of going against Gretel's wishes!"

"You're not going against them… Just… sidetracking-" The Wolf scratched at his belly, moaning.

"Don't even try! I'm not going to shoot it for you!" Hansel grabbed up his gun, turned, and stormed away.


	32. The Kitchen Battle

Hansel shot four more birds and another rabbit, all which he grudgingly let the Wolf have. So, when they went home, taking side-streets so no one would see the Wolf, the Wolf was all smiles, patting his stomach in satisfaction, humming under his breath.

They found Red's front door unlocked, let themselves in, found Red in the kitchen with Peter, brushing out the tangles in the little wolf's fur gently. Sullen, Peter mumbled, "I don't want to be brushed…"

"You have tangles."

"Can't you leave the tangles in? It hurts when you take them out, Marie…" Peter flinched as Red forced a comb through a knot of blonde-gray fur.

The hoarse laugh from the doorway caused her to jerk up, making Peter yelp as the comb yanked at another knot. Striding to them, the Wolf bent, petted Peter on the head, and whispered, "Are you being good?"

Solemnly, Peter murmured, "Yes, but Marie is trying to unknot me, papa… and it hurts…"

The Wolf smiled, "That's because Red's not doing it the right way. Here, Red, let me have the comb." He held out his clawed hand.

Huffing, Red pushed the comb into the Wolf's paw, stepped back, and watched him start brushing at his son's fur. Peter's ears flicked up before he wriggled, giggling, "That tickles, papa!"

"Now, now… Stay still, or you'll fall off the chair."

Hansel glared from the doorway before grumbling, "I brought food…"

Red glanced at him, forced a smile when she saw the bird and rabbit hanging from his side, and said, "That'll be for dinner, okay?"

Hansel glared at Peter and the Wolf, "What about lunch? Did you guys already eat lunch?"

"No, but Peter wanted-"

"A cake!" Peter twisted around, laughing, and, finding his father's hand, hugged it happily.

"…Yes… So that's cooking right now." Red smiled apologetically at Hansel.

"But can't you make meat afterwards?" sniffled Hansel, shoulders slumping.

Red stared at him, "For dinner, yes."

"But cake isn't lunch… Make _that _for dinner's dessert."

"Then what will we have for dinner. The meat's for dinner."

"… Fine…" Dejected, Hansel turned, slowly wandered down the hall towards his room.

* * *

Hansel spent the rest of the day moping around in his room, convinced that 'Gretel' liked the Wolf and Peter more than she did him. Shivering under the blankets, he muttered angrily under his breath, swearing revenge against the two dogs that had stolen away his sister's attention. When time finally came for dinner, Red came knocking at the door, asking for the pheasant and rabbit. 

She was shocked when Hansel's ragged and miserable voice came from through the door, "Why should I give it to you? You'll only eat a bite and then give the rest to that stupid, little friend of yours…"

Blinking, Red stared at the door before leaning against it and calling, "But he has to eat to."

"Let that big oaf of a father hunt for him… I hunt only for you…" Inside the room, Hansel curled up under the blankets, eyes hard, cold, and angry.

"Hansel! I couldn't eat that much, so I have to give some to Peter and-"

"What about me? I haven't eaten since yesterday…" muttered Hansel. "You never think about _me_. Just that little friend of yours…"

Red paused, eyes widening, and then called softly, "Oh… I'm sorry… I can make you something too, if you want."

Hansel sat up, gazing at the door with longing eyes. "Really? Just for me?"

Red let out a silent groan. Hansel was so much like a little toddler, falling into all these moods when he had no attention directed towards him. What she wouldn't give to be free to the burden of being his 'sister', even if it was pretend. "Fine… What do you want?"

She forced a hasty smile when the door creaked open. Peering out wistfully, Hansel whispered, "You."

Red glowered at him in angry annoyance, "I meant to _eat_."

Hansel frowned sadly, "What if I want what you eat? Whatever you make?"

Red rolled her eyes with a moan, "Do you have to be so indecisive? It'll take so long trying to decide on a single recipe!"

"It's just a rabbit and a pheasant, Gretel. There can't be that many ways to cook it…" Hansel stared at her miserably.

* * *

Hansel stared at the pheasant in the middle of the table, eyes narrowed. His sadness had given way to hunger and suspicion, both which were very visible upon his face. 

"What did you do? Poison it?"

"What? You never heard of a Wolf cooking?" the Wolf hissed, licking at his paws.

"I wanted Gretel to cook…" grumbled Hansel.

"She was taking too long with all her little cookbooks, so I took over."

"But it has… green things on it… How do I know that's not nightshade or some other wicked poison?" Picking up a fork, Hansel poked at the pheasant.

The Wolf batted him across the head angrily, "Stop that! I cooked it! You think I'm the person to slip poison into a person's food?"

"…No… But- Gretel!"

Raising a small piece of the pheasant meat to her lips, Red glared at Hansel, "Look, it's not poisoned." She popped it into her mouth, chewed, swallowed, and then crossed her arms as she gazed smugly at him.

"But… poison doesn't act quickly…" Hansel retorted weakly, staring at her.

The Wolf chuckled grimly, "If there was poison, then I'd be poisoning my own son, stupid! I would rather kill myself than let Peter be poisoned!"

"…Some people kill their own children…"

"Only if they're mad! Now, sit down!" The Wolf bared his teeth. "The sooner you eat, the sooner I get the scraps!" He turned, paused, and then rounded the table to tap Peter on the head, "Peter?"

Peter, who had been dozing off on his plate, jerked awake, yawned, and then reached up to find his father's hand. Nuzzling it, he murmured, "Huh? Papa? What is it?""I made something cooked. Do you want a little?"

"Mm… Yes…" Peter's eyelids flickered shut as he used the back of the chair as a pillow, wriggling into a comfortable position.

The Wolf chuckled, "Are you tired, Peter?"

Across the table, Hansel sullenly sat down and grunted, "Look at him. He's falling asleep. Of course he's tired, you big fool."

"I didn't ask you!"

"So?"

Red reached up, grabbed the Wolf's scant stomach fur as he started to storm over. Pausing, the Wolf glanced down at her fingers before grumbling, "He started it."

"No fighting."

"… Could you let go now?"

Red released the handful of fur and watched as the Wolf inspected the area, poking at the fur and the staples before sighing. Reaching over Peter's bobbing head, he took a knife, cut a small piece of fowl, and brought it to Peter's plate as he murmured, "I get my staples out tomorrow. I just have to go bother that stupid doctor… Then I don't have to ever worry about being split open again." He shot a hate-filled glare at Hansel.

Hansel smiled mockingly up at him, "How's your back, friend?"

"I'm no friend to you! And my back still hurts, but it's healing."

"Sad to hear that." Hansel turned his gaze to the pheasant, licked his lips, and then hesitantly took a piece. He munched at a little piece slowly.

The Wolf picked up Peter, took the place in the chair, and sat his son down on his lap. As Peter nuzzled up to his fur, moaning for warmth and comfort, the Wolf picked up a tiny piece of pheasant, held it up to Peter's face, "Peter… please eat…"

"Papa… I'm tired." Peter turned his snout into the gray fur.

"You only had a little slice of cake at lunch. You should eat." The Wolf gently turned Peter's head, opened his mouth, and put the little piece of meat in.

Peter swallowed the piece before slowly curling up against his father and falling to sleep. The Wolf sighed, leaned back, and began to caress his son sadly, "I don't understand… Why is he so tired? You didn't really play any moving games with him, Red… Just drawing those horrible little scribbles of his and playing make-believe with one of your toys…" He toyed with Peter's ear.

Hansel had finished his meat. Leaning back, he picked at his teeth with the fork, gazing at the Wolf with a thoughtful look across his face. Food had filled his stomach, and, in doing so, his meter of tolerance for the Wolf. "Think he's sick again?"

The Wolf leveled his milky eyes at Hansel before motioning to the pheasant, "By all means, keep eating. I like it when you're not some annoying git."

The half-smile fell from Hansel's face before he reached forward, took another thing of meat, and began to eat it. The little spark of contemplation never left his eyes though. "Well… That would explain why he was so tired…"

"He gets sick easily. It's nothing. He'll get better." The Wolf dragged his fingers through his son's fur, smiling lovingly.

Hansel watched the Wolf's grooming with interest as Red ate a small piece of the pheasant. Full, Red pushed her plate away, "Well… anyone want the rest?"

Hansel shook his head, "I'm done. Let the dog have his scraps."

The Wolf glared at the huntsman, "I am not a dog, but I will take the scraps." He reached for the plate, grabbed it, and then pulled it so it sat right in front of him. He began to voraciously devour it.

"Guess you didn't poison it then." Murmured Hansel after a few moments of watching the Wolf.

"Of course I didn't! How many times have I told you? Ugh… Wish it was still raw…" The Wolf picked up the pheasant by the leg, held it up, and sniffed at it testily, "Or not with so much rosemary… Oh well!" He shrugged, forced it into his mouth, and swallowed it before settling back down to groom his son.

Red grimaced, "Don't you ever hurt your throat doing that?"

"Nah… Have to be a master at it though." The Wolf smiled at her, obviously joking, "Marquis and Jhonen had to work several years to perfect it. It's an art. Have to be in a circus band to do it." Chuckling, he traced Peter's snout with a finger.

Hansel snorted, "A circus? Have you ever even been to one of those? The only thing that's swallowed whole-"

"Are swords. Yes, I know."

Glancing from one to the another, Red finally asked, "You guys have been to the circus?"

"Yes." The Wolf and Hansel said together before pausing and glancing at each other.

"Not together." Muttered the Wolf after a moment of uncomfortable silence. "I took Peter once when he was very little, when he could still see and walk. Little fluff-ball couldn't stay still for a moment, especially when they were having the fire-breathers do their act."

"Only a carnival here… Where would a circus be?"

"One of the bigger towns beyond Sleepy-" The Wolf didn't finish his sentence, shutting his mouth as his ears perked, tilting forward as they tried to catch a noise. After a few moments, he turned, transferred Peter to Red's lap, and whispered, "Be right back." Standing, he rushed out of the room.

* * *

Only a few minutes later, the Wolf was back with a surprise. In his arms was a sullen Pinocchio, who glared at the horrified Red and smug Hansel angrily. "Could someone please tell him to let me go?"The Wolf's fur was fluffed up, dusted with a thin sheet of snowflakes. Smiling, he restrained Pinocchio as the puppet tried to struggle once more out of his arms, "I found him outside. Can I burn him?" 

"No!" Red struggled up, transferred Peter carefully onto the chair, and then hurried over to yank at Pinocchio's hand, pulling him away from the Wolf. As the Wolf frowned, she hissed, "I thought you said you wouldn't come back here!"

"I got my new body and I just wanted to make sure that you were alright! And you said not to come with guns and an arrest writ..." grumbled Pinocchio, knocking a hand against his chest, making the hollow, dull sound of wood groan out. "And why the heck is the Wolf still here? You know what he does, and, in the state of the town right now, the people would be more than happy to come in and burn him alive!"

"I heard 'burn'." The Wolf crept up behind Pinocchio. "How about a big, raging fire, Red? Have a fireplace?"

Pinocchio stared at him, unnerved, "I'm not here to get you. I just wanted to make sure you hadn't eaten Red."

From the table, Hansel muttered under his breath, "Gretel. Not Red."

Oblivious to what Hansel had said, Pinocchio swiveled around to face the Wolf, his eyes wide, and ask, "So… why are you here still?"

"Winter."

"You're staying out of the snow? Don't you have a house in the woods?"

"Seems that people know of it. I don't want to go back just to find myself being shot at… and the cave is too cold without Jhonen and Marquis. Plus, I've gotten Red to babysit…" The Wolf smiled widely.

Pinocchio turned, latched an eye upon Red, "Is this true?"

"Yes…"

"Huh… Fine then… I did promise to you that I wouldn't come knocking at your door for the Wolf…" Pinocchio sighed, glaring at his boots, and then whirled around to poke an indignant finger against the Wolf's chest, "But if I find you anywhere else, you are as good as mine! I will make sure that you are locked up and judged!"

"Guess I'm stuck here then." The Wolf shrugged mockingly.

"Also, if anybody else finds out you're staying here, I can't do a thing."

Here, the Wolf froze. Slowly, he turned suspicious eyes to Hansel, who had developed another thoughtful smile upon his face. "Hansel…" he growled, eyes narrowing.

"What?" Hansel asked in his most innocent voice.

"If you tell, I will make you wish you never had."

"Now, now… Weren't we _friends_ just a minute ago, sharing meat and talking like civilized men?" Hansel chuckled.

Pinocchio glanced at Hansel, watched him for a moment, and then asked Red, "Is he being a problem?"

"…Just annoying."

Hansel's face turned the red of anger as he snarled, "I am not annoying!"

"…Just to me then."

"Gretel!"

Pinocchio waved a hand at him, shushing the angry huntsman, and then bent to whisper into Red's ear, "Watch out for Miller. He's up to his ears in anger and he's swearing that he'll have the Wolf's hide for himself sooner or later. If he finds out, he'll come… _with_ guns. Make sure the Wolf isn't seen."

The Wolf grabbed Pinocchio's shoulder, pulled him back, "What are you saying to her?"

"That it was a bad idea to ever give you a place to stay." Grumbled Pinocchio, waving the Wolf's hand off his shoulder with a sniff of disdain. "A child eater who rooms with a child. I'm still thinking you're going to eat her."

"Talk to the child eater's little monster than." Grunted Hansel, pointing at Peter.

"Peter is not a monster." Hissed the Wolf.

"Bloody little monster." Hansel dared the Wolf with a glare.

"Look who's talking!"

"Just a Hansel." Hansel placed his tapered fingers against his chest, pretended to be affronted.

"A Hansel that's a throat-cutter!"

"A Hansel who cut open a wolf's belly to free a little girl." Hansel was growing incredibly pink in the face, eyes narrowing into lines of icy blue as he angered.

"See! You did cut me open! You're the throat-cutter! No, wait… I mean belly-cutter…" The Wolf paused, losing his train of thought as he tried to come up with a proper insulting name for Hansel.

Hansel rolled his eyes, "Stating the obvious. Wow! You really are some sort of dunce when it comes to insults, aren't you?"

Hissing, the Wolf swirled on his hind claws, stormed from the room.

After a minute, Pinocchio directed at Hansel, "You know, when you make him angry, he has to take it out on someone, and I think that just might be the townspeople. I would think before making him angry."

"Why? It's fun, and it's not like he'll do-" Hansel stopped, staring over Red and Pinocchio, eyes widening in horror before he squeaked, "That's mine!"

Red turned, glanced up, and froze when she saw the Wolf with Hansel's gun. He had it pressed up against his shoulder, both of his eyes flaring as he snarled, "You move, and I shoot! I know you loaded it before we came back, but you didn't spend the shot, and it's still in here! All I have to do is pull the trigger and you die!"

Hansel stared at the gun before whispering, "You wouldn't…"

"I would!" hissed the Wolf.

Pinocchio glowered at the Wolf, "You shoot, people will hear, and the police will come to investigate, and I'll have to tell them that you're here."

"Shut up! My argument is with Hansel, not you!" The Wolf's finger shook at the trigger, his fur rising on end as he took quick, raspy breaths.

Slowly, Hansel made to move out of his chair.

Red and Pinocchio dove out of the way as the Wolf loosed a shot. Not expecting the recoil, the Wolf yipped, stepped back, and then dropped the musket, cradling his shoulder. Hansel stared at the hole in the table just a few centimeters from the edge of the table; if it had been any more to the right, it would have entered his abdomen. Overcoming his surprise and leaping up, he rushed forward, drawing his hunting knife. The Wolf grabbed up the musket, ignoring his pained shoulder, and angrily swung it by the barrel like a club. The stock missed Hansel's head barely, and the huntsman drew back, crouched, eyes furious.

"Stop it! Stop it! Stop it, stop it, stop it!" Red stomped her foot against the kitchen floor, her face growing a livid red, one that would match her riding hood if she had been wearing it.

The Wolf and Hansel ignored her, lunging forward to engage again. Swinging out angrily with the musket, the Wolf swore loudly as Hansel ducked and made to stab at him. He jerked his knee up instinctively, set on protecting his stomach.The knife pierced the scraggly pants, grazed against the bony kneecap, and then fell to the side as the Wolf let his foot slam out into Hansel's legs. Leaping backwards, Hansel growled softly, eyes sparkling with hatred.

The Wolf still had the musket. Taking a few breaths, he slowly prowled towards Hansel, licking his lips. His fists twisted slowly around the barrel of the musket.

"Stop it!" screeched Red before turning to Pinocchio and hissing, "Stop them! Please!"

Pinocchio blinked before fidgeting with his hands nervously. Softly, he murmured, "I really don't want to have to get another body. I just got this one today…" He itched at his forearm.

Red huffed, "Fine! I'll break it apart then!" She started to stomp forward.

"No!" Pinocchio reached for her, trying to yank her back. However, Red scurried out of his reach.

The Wolf lunged for Hansel, swung the musket harshly. This time, it cracked against his head, sending him cart-wheeling to the ground. Instantly, the Wolf knelt upon him, tail wagging in self-assured victory. "Got you now!" The Wolf lowered his jaws, drooling.

The next moment, he froze when Red threw herself onto the Wolf's back, locking her arms around her neck. She trembled as she felt his muscles stiffen.

"Red… Get off…" grunted the Wolf, raising a hand to finger her forearms.

"No! You get off of Hansel, let him go, and don't you ever dare start another fight in my house again!" Red tightened her arms around his neck, flinching when she felt his blood pumping furiously under the fur.

The Wolf moaned, let the hand drift from her arms to his stomach, "But I didn't get to eat…"

On the ground, Hansel was groaning softly, his eyes unfocused and his right ear bleeding freely. Reaching up, he pushed weakly at the Wolf's chest, whimpering. "Get… off of… me…"

The Wolf lowered his head, opened his mouth, tried to bite Hansel. However, Red tightened her hold, making him pull back.

Latching both of his hands around her forearms, the Wolf pulled at her angrily, "He is a bother, and I know you don't like him! I can get rid of him right now! Let me!"

"No!"

Staggering up, the gray beast wheeled around, backed up against the wall, and began to squish her up against it. "If you don't let go, I will scratch you arms to pieces! You're choking me!"

Red squeaked, her ribs slowly crushing in on her lungs, "Get away from the wall first, you big oaf! I can't breathe!"

The Wolf hissed, "Let go first!"

"No! You let me go first!"

"Get off or I will eat you! I swear I will! And I'll enjoy every minute of it!" The Wolf pushed harder against the wall, furious.

Red unlocked her arms, slid down, and then found herself staring into the Wolf's angry eyes. As he shivered in fury, she whispered, "Please don't eat him."

The Wolf forced a smile, hissed, "I just watched you eat a pheasant… and I'm still hungry. I ate the rabbit already and I am _still_ hungry… I _want_ to eat Hansel."

"You can't."

The Wolf's fur stood on end before he whispered, "What would you do if I did?"

"I would… not let you stay here anymore."

"I don't really care about that anymore. If I'm cooped up with Hansel even one more minute, I will die!"

Red was about to retort when she saw Hansel appear over the Wolf's shoulders, face livid with both rage and blood. In his hand was the hunting knife, glinting through its thin layer of crimson.

"Hansel! Don't-"

With a small, high-pitched hiss of hatred, Hansel buried the knife deep into the Wolf's neck. The Wolf stiffened, eyes widening, and then wrenched forward, jerking the knife's hilt out of Hansel's hand. Turning, he bared his teeth, growled furiously, and reached up to grab the dagger. Slowly, he slid it from his neck, then choked as blood began to pour out. Terrified, Red did the first thing that came to mind. She quickly put her hands across the wound, putting pressure upon it, and turned to squeak at Pinocchio, "Help!"

Pinocchio stared, dumbfounded.

"Pinocchio!"

Jolting back to reality, Pinocchio hurried out to find some bandages.

Feeling someone kneel by her side, Red glanced back to see Hansel peering miserably at the wound, "Huh… Really didn't mean to do that…"

Red glared at him fiercely, hissed, "Help him, then!"

Hansel slowly reached forward, grabbed the Wolf's jaws, and forcing them open, stuck his hand in. The Wolf, who had been jerking back and forth, eyes rolling wildly in his head, instantly snapped down, but it didn't seem to faze Hansel. Slowly, he continued to slide his hand down the Wolf's throat until he paused, thought for a moment, and asked, "See my fingers?" By the tone of his voice, he was having fun with this.

Red squawked in horror as she saw Hansel's pointer finger curl out of the wound. "Yes! That's disgusting! Stop it!"

Hansel grinned, retracted his finger, and then, after a few moments of hesitation, continued to slide his arm down. The Wolf slowly calmed, his eyes closing, and Red was surprised when she heard a little purr of satisfaction. His jaws slowly opened, ready to receive more. Hansel smiled glumly, "Well... He's not hurting anymore..."

Suddenly, the Wolf had Hansel's shoulder in his claws. Leaning forward, he tried to engulf more of Hansel's arm, growling hungrily, but the man hurriedly jerked back, withdrawing his arm hastily.

The Wolf's eyes flickered open, locked on Hansel, before he rasped, "You _owe_ me." He started to stand.

Red hung at his shoulder, trying to keep him down. "Stop! You're going to bleed out!"

"I'm hungry!" whined the Wolf. "I need food, not medicine!"

"You can't eat Hansel!"

"But I want to!"

Red poked at the wound, causing the Wolf to yelp. "No! You can't eat him!"

The Wolf glowered at her before hugging his knees to his chest and grumbling softly, "Stupid girl… Stupid huntsman… What I wouldn't give to have both of you dead and done with, then I would have Peter all to myself… Go die, the lot of you."

Hansel was wiping saliva from his arm slowly, regarding the red, bleeding line of teeth wounds where the Wolf had bitten him. "I could say the same, except I would have Gretel all to myself and your little son would be dead with you."

"I would be happy to see you try to try it! I'd rip your head off!" challenged the Wolf.

"And swallow it? It'd come out your neck!" Hansel glared at him.

The Wolf leaned forward with a growl, claws extending, and then froze before placing a hand to his chest. The strangest look came over his face.

Curious, Hansel snorted, "What's wrong?"

The Wolf kept staring down at his furry chest.

"Wolf?"

The Wolf hiccupped, sighed, and then hiccupped again. His eyes narrowed before he grumbled, "You gave me hiccups."

Hansel slumped, staring at the Wolf with unrestricted and disbelieving scorn, "And you're going to cry for that, you oaf?"

"I can't eat when I have the hiccups! I choke on anything and everything!" The Wolf groaned, pulled his knees up to his chest, and muttered furiously, "I have to wait till they're gone before I eat again… Fie, and I was hungry too…"

For a few moments, Hansel digested this information, chewing at his lip, and then smirked, "Guess you can't eat me then."

The Wolf glared angrily up at him, breathing deeply in an attempt to banish the hiccups, "Shut up! You're the one who started all this!"

"Me? Last time I checked, you were the one who brought my loaded musket in and tried to shoot me!"

"Because you insulted," The Wolf paused to hiccup, "me!"

"Only because you commenced it!"

Before the Wolf could growl out another insult, Red snapped, "Shut up, the both of you! You're acting like little kids! At what things are already, you're both out of the house! Don't make it a month!"

The Wolf and Hansel stared at her in disbelief before moaning together, "A month...?"


	33. Peter's New Shorts

After she had made sure that both of them were bandaged properly, Red angrily ousted the two offenders from her home. Hansel stayed outside for a bit, waiting sullenly by the door for a chance to sneak back in, while the Wolf immediately disappeared into the alleys, still hiccupping. Peter had slept through the whole ordeal, so, when he woke up four hours later, he had no idea why his father wasn't there.

"Papa? Papa?" Red could hear his little voice echoing from the kitchen as she pulled the fur coat around her. Without the Wolf to watch over the stove, it had gotten rather cold in the house. She blew onto her hands, trying to warm them, and then hurried out to the kitchen.

"Peter? What is it? Do you need something?"

"Oh… Marie… I just wanted to… Where's papa? I wanted to ask him something." Peter shuffled uncomfortably on his chair, sniffling.

Red smiled, sat down by him, "What do you want to ask?"

"…Nothing…" Leaning back into the chair, Peter fidgeted at the band of his dirty, little shorts.

Red gazed at him before offering, "Do you want new shorts?"

Peter's fur fluffed up before he murmured, "I'm okay… These shorts are good… They're the ones Papa got for me…"

"But how long have you had those?"

"… Um… Three years?"

"Three years? You had those on for three years?"

"No, I… Well, ever since I got sick, because the rest of the clothes were too small… And they were Papa's present…"

"So you've had those on for a year?" Red grimaced in disgust. "You really need some new clothes!"

"…But… These are the clothes Papa got me…"

"Don't worry, I'll make them."

"But these still fit!" whined Peter, tugging at his waistband. "I don't need new ones!"

"I'm still going to make some for you. Those are _filthy_!"

"But I've had them for so long and-" Pausing, Peter felt at his shorts, blinking, trying to envision them, and then stammered, "Y-you're not going to… undress me, are you?"

"No. Once I finish the new shorts, I'll let you dress by yourself."

Peter snuffled miserably, "Okay… But Papa won't be happy…"

* * *

Red started sewing Peter some new shorts as soon as she was finished cooking some soup. Afterwards, as they started to prepare to sleep, Red was startled when Hansel appeared at her door, eager to reclaim his room

"I told you to get out!"

"You said get out, but you never said when I could come back!" Hansel rapped at the door, an annoyed look at his face.

"You know what I meant! Now go away! I'm still hoping that the blood won't stay in the wallpaper!"

"I can help you clean… Please, Gretel? It's really cold out here…" Hansel chafed at his hands before biting at his fingers, trying to get feeling back into them.

Sighing, Red pulled the door open. Instantly, Hansel scurried in, kicked the door shut, and then pounced upon her to latch his arms around her.

"Ay! No hugging! No hugging!"

"Ah, come on, Gretel…" Hansel rubbed his cheek against her neck before smiling, releasing her, and crossed his arms, "So you want me to clean?"

* * *

Hansel was a dogged worker, grinding his fingers raw as he scrubbed tirelessly at the blood stains. Meanwhile, Red kept working on new shorts for Peter.

Night came and went, and the morning found Red finishing up the shorts.

"Peter, I have your new shorts." Red shook at Peter's shoulder, smiling softly.

Moaning in his sleep, Peter rubbed his snout against the pillow. "No… Marie… I'm tired…"

"Try these on and you can go back to sleep."

Slowly, Peter sat up, his eyes edged with sleep boogers, his fur matted and knotted after a night's sleep. Yawning, he reached up, itched at his snout, and then grumbled, "I was sleeping..."

"You seem to be doing an unusual amount of that lately." Red pushed the new shorts into Peter's hands.

"'Cause it's snowy-time. I like to sleep when it snows…" Peter felt the new shorts with his small fingers, contemplating the texture of the light cotton she had used. "Do I have to wear these? I don't want papa to get mad."

"Why would he be mad? They're just shorts."

Peter hesitated before whispering, "He likes being the one to give me things… He wouldn't ever let mama give me new toys… It was always papa…"

"This isn't a toy. It's _clothing_. Put it on." Red stood, turned, and scurried out the door.


	34. Present Plotting

The rest of the week passed with no trouble. Hansel was unusually eager to please and willing to help, so the house soon lay with its floors shining and its counters clean of dust. However, when the Wolf appeared at her door, demanding to be let in after his week's banishment, he was furious when he found Peter in his new shorts.

"How dare you make shorts for him?"

Hansel glanced up from his soapy dish, blinking in surprise as he heard the Wolf's furious exclamation from the other room.

In the bedroom, Red was staring up at the Wolf's livid face, watching with awe as his fur stood on end. If she hadn't been so entranced with his anger, she might have turned her eyes to his stomach, which no longer had the staples.

As the Wolf continued to rant, Peter cringed on the bed, muttering under his breath. Finally, he whispered, "Papa… It's not her fault…"

"You asked for this? You?" The Wolf whirled to his son, tail looking more like a bottle brush every moment. "You _never_ ask for things! It's rude!" He raised a paw, intent on cuffing his son over the head to discipline him.

Red leapt up, grabbed his hand, forced it down, "I wanted to make it for him. If you hadn't noticed, his old shorts were smelly and- How could you let him wear them for a year straight?"

"They were clean!" The Wolf hissed.

"Like your pants?"

"What about my pants?" The Wolf stepped back, suddenly defensive. Glancing down, he picked at the torn, ragged waistband, trying to figure out if there was a problem he couldn't see.

Red rolled her eyes in disbelief, "You honestly don't think you need new pants? Those are filthy and torn and-"

"They'll suit me fine!" The snarl that issued from the Wolf was layered with unchecked anger. "Now get out! I must speak with my son!"

Peter squeaked, terrified, "Marie! Don't-"

Red grabbed the Wolf's paw again as he made a motion to cuff Peter, "Don't hit him!"

"Little children must be disciplined! That's the way they grow to be good people! This is how my father did it to me and this is how I will do it for my son!"

"Well, you're in my house, and that's not how we do it he-"

Red squeaked as the Wolf grabbed her and lifted her off the ground. Glaring her straight in the eye, he growled, "I discipline my way, you discipline yours. I don't care if I'm in your-"

"Then you won't mind going to wherever you go for a week."

The Wolf froze, staring at her, and then sighed, "Fine…" With a little grunt, he set her down before muttering, "I still want to talk to him."

"Fine, but if he tells me you hit him, you're not going to stay!" Huffing, Red turned, stormed from the room.

The Wolf stared after her for a moment before growling, sliding up onto the bed, and touching Peter's hand.

Peter curled away from his touch before sniffling, "You're not going to hit me, are you, Papa?"

"No, Peter. Now… did you ask for these?" The Wolf lowered his hand to the shorts and paused.

"No, papa… I told Marie that I didn't want any new shorts, but she wanted to make me some…" Peter snuffled, found the Wolf's shoulder, and lay his head against it.

The Wolf reached up and slowly stroked his son's ears, "That's good… But I wished you could have stalled her till I had come back…"

"Why?"

"Because I don't want Red to get used to giving you gifts. You'll get too attached."

"…Oh…" Shivering, Peter scooted closer to his father's chest, stilled, and then ran his hand down his father's stomach. His ears perked, "You got the metal out, papa!"

"Yes, I did!" Anger now thoroughly dissipated, the Wolf laughed loudly, licked Peter's nose.

Peter squirmed, purring with delight, "Ew! Papa! Stop it! Your breath is yucky!"

"Of course it is, silly! I have to eat too, you know!"

Peter's smile suddenly died, and, for a few moments, he fidgeted with his fingers before coughing softly, "Papa?"

"Yes?" The Wolf twirled a little strand of fur between his fingers, smiling lovingly.

Reaching up, Peter took his hand, put his snout into the palm, closed his eyes, and murmured, "Can we buy Marie a present?"

"Huh?" The Wolf's hands stilled. "Buy Red a… present?" A little spark of anger crept into his eyes.

"Yes… She made me some shorts… and she's been feeding me… Can we buy something to say 'thank you'?"

The Wolf blinked, frowned, and then whispered, "Like _what_?"

"Well… You buyed mama presents... and she didn't even cook…" Peter rubbed his head against the Wolf's scruffy chest.

"But that was… her…" The Wolf grunted.

"But maybe you could get her a dress… or a cake… or one of those little metal things…"

"What metal things?"

"That mama said you gave to her because she was a good girl."

The Wolf's blood chilled, "A… _ring_?"

"Yes. Isn't Marie a good girl? Mama said good girls get rings." Peter's eyes widened, his smile bright and innocent.

"Just as mama told you that God sends little girls with magic powers that can make you better…" The Wolf rolled his eyes.

"They're called angels, papa." Giggled Peter, clapping his hands.

"Yes, yes... But still, those are what _mama_ said, not what I say."

"But-"

"Peter, listen… I think we shouldn't buy Red a present."

"Why not?" whined Peter. "She's a good girl! She's nice and she takes care of me!"

The Wolf pulled Peter onto his chest, started to caress his little boy, and, as Peter snuggled down into the comfort of his fur, murmured, "There's a reason, Peter. I will tell you when you're older, okay?"

"But why, papa?" Peter curled his fists into the gray fur, his voice betraying the sudden onslaught of drowsiness. "I'm old enough…"

The Wolf grinned widely, craned his neck up to stare down at the top of his son's head, and whispered, "Well, the first reason is that I just recently tried to eat her."

"Then it could be an… apology… present…"

"I don't think it'd work that well."

"But it'd make her happy…"

"A ring… would be good… Mama's was so… pretty…"

"You can't even see anymore! If I even brought her anything, I would buy her something that you could enjoy too!"

Suddenly, Peter's head bobbed up, eyes wide and sparkling. "A toy!"

The Wolf burst into laughter, "A toy? For Red? You are kidding, no?"

"No…" Peter set his head back down, closed his eyes, and then smiled gently, "Papa… I missed you…"

After a few moments of silence, the Wolf stroked Peter's ears softly, "Really?"

"Yes… I was a little scared…"

"Of what?"

"Of… Hansel…"

The Wolf sighed, continued to run his fingers across his son's fur, "Don't worry, Peter…I won't let him hurt you…"

* * *

"I can't believe he yelled at me! And he was going to hurt Peter! How dare he?" Red stormed in circles around the kitchen.

Hansel had his face turned down, supposedly regarding his fingernails in disinterest, but his icy blue eyes stayed upon his little 'sister'. "Was he going to hurt you?"

"No, but- He can't hurt Peter!"

Hansel sighed, let his hand drop, and lounged against the countertop, "Well, well… I'd suggest it's time to banish them both from the house, but you'd only be mad at me."

"No, we're not going to-"

The Wolf appeared at the kitchen doorway, eyes bright, "Red?"

Red snapped her lips shut, turned to glare at him, and grumbled, "What?"

"You said you would make me pants?"

Red stared at him, shocked and caught by surprise, "What?"

"Pants. Will you make them for me?" The Wolf cocked his head, eyes hopeful.

"Uh… sure…?"

"Oh! Thank you! I'm going out, and I'll be back soon, okay? Goodbye!" The Wolf disappeared, pouncing towards the front door.

Red stared at the empty doorway for a few more moments before glancing at Hansel and asking, "What… just happened?"


	35. The Necklace

The Wolf was gone till late that night, when he came back fuming and angry. He threw Red out of her room so he could sleep in the bed with Peter. Red, furious, ended up having to sleep in Hansel's room. Hansel was especially joyful about this.

"Yay… We get to sleep together…" Hansel cuddled up to her as he murmured sleepily.

Red glared up at the ceiling, "Get your hands off of me."

"But I want to hug you, Gretel…" With a soft smile, Hansel kissed her shoulder.

Red sighed, grumbling, "Fine… But just stop it now…"

"Ah, Gretel…" Hansel embraced her tighter.

* * *

The next morning, the Wolf was the first one up. He lay in bed for a few minutes, stroking his stomach softly before he rolled over, found Peter's blonde ears, and tickled the tips, "Peter… wake up…"

Peter whimpered into his pillow, trying to escape the hand, and then muttered, "Papa… I'm trying to sleep…"

"Peter… Come on… You want to give Red a gift, yes?"

With a small sniff, Peter lifted his head, turned to find his father, and whispered, "You got her a present?"

"I did, but you have to give it to her, okay?" whispered the Wolf.

"What did you get her?" Peter licked his father's nose happily.

"I got her a necklace, is that okay?"

"Really? Is it a pretty one? What does it look like?"

"Remember your mama's necklace?"

"Yes?"

"It's the same one."

Peter's fur fluffed up before he smiled softly, "You mean it's the one with the big blue rock?"

"Yes, because I remembered how much you liked it, Peter!" The Wolf kissed Peter's nose. "And I'm doing this more for you than her."

"But… Marie's nice… She'll like the necklace a lot…" Peter kissed his father back, giggling happily. "Maybe she'll make you a cake!"

"Huh?"

"A cake! She'll be happy and she'll make us a cake!" Peter clapped his hands excitedly.

The Wolf laughed, "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"I like cake!"

"Maybe you should eat more, then you would get a little bit more meat on your bones, you scrawny thing?" Chuckling, the Wolf ruffled Peter's fur.

Peter smiled, pulled himself closer to his father's side before yawning, closing his eyes, and settling down sleepily, "Just… don't give it to her until… I wake up…"

"Okay, Peter…" The Wolf pulled the covers over Peter's thin legs before whispering, "I'll wake you up, I promise. That's if I don't fall asleep," He yawned, "myself."

* * *

An hour after the Wolf and Peter fell back to sleep, Hansel woke up, dressed, and went into the kitchen to start breakfast. He was intent on surprising 'Gretel' with a nice little meal.By the time the Wolf had reawakened, the kitchen was layered in the aroma of omelet, bacon, and warm, buttered bread. As the Wolf wandered in, sleepy-eyed, Hansel glanced up from the table, which he had been setting with plates, silverware, and a pitcher of milk. "Oh… Hello, Wolf."

"Mm… That smells absolutely delicious… You cooked this?" The Wolf immediately stood by the table, regarding the plate of eggs with a hungry eye.

"You have to wait till Gretel wakes up. I want to make sure she eats enough."

"Oh… Well, I'm hungry, so I think you should go wake her up."

"I'm not leaving you here with the food. By the time we get back, it'll be all gone."

"… Fine… I'll go wake her." The Wolf scrambled from the room.

* * *

Red was grumpy and tired when the Wolf shook her awake, a bad night's sleep next to the turning and tossing Hansel taking a toll on her attitude. Glaring up at the Wolf's hopeful eyes, she yanked her shoulders from his large paws, rolled over, and stuffed her head into a pillow, "Go away."

"C'mon, Red… I'm hungry and Hansel won't let me eat until you wake up."

"Tell him I said it was okay to eat without me… Just let me sleep…" Red pulled the covers over her head.

The Wolf bounded out of the room, tongue lolling out eagerly, only to reappear a few minutes later, disheartened. Hansel had reprimanded him, sent him back to wake Red. Slowly, he squatted besides Red, drew the covers back, and nosed her neck with his wet nose, "Hansel says you need to be there…"

"Go away!" Red tried to push his face away weakly.

Softly, the Wolf whispered, "There's _bacon_… Please… Red… There's bacon and he won't let me have any till I bring you out. Don't make you drag you out there…"

"I'm sleeping…" Red murmured before slipping back into her dreams.

After a few moments, the Wolf pushed the covers aside, slowly bent forward, and licked Red's neck. When he received no response, he sighed, reached down, and dug his hand deep into his pocket before withdrawing a thin, golden necklace. Swinging from it was a meticulously cut sapphire, shaped like a little flower. Gently, he pulled Red's head up, latched it around her neck, and regarded her with solemn eyes before sighing.

He had given that necklace to his mate as their very first anniversary present. It hurt to part with it, but he had been long been searching for a way to be rid of the torturing memories that the little trinkets he still had plagued him with.

Standing, he turned, paused, glanced back down, and then slowly stumbled to the door with a soft call, "Hansel… She won't wake up… I want my breakfast… Come on…"

* * *

Hansel finally relented, let the Wolf devour half of the food upon the table before wandering off to wake Red. He found her under her covers, snoring softly. Sighing, he knelt besides her, stroked her hair softly, "Gretel… Please wake up… That stupid fool is going to eat everything… And I made it for you…" He pulled the cover off her face.

Red sniffled in her dream, hugged her pillow closer to her cheek.

Hansel traced a finger down her cheek, smiling gently, and then rested upon the thin, intricate chain rounding her neck. His loving look changed to a confused, curious one, and he held up the sapphire, peering at it. "Where did you get this, Gretel?"

Red grumbled and turned onto her stomach, causing the necklace to slip out of his fingers. After a few seconds, Hansel bent, kissed her cheek.

Instantly, Red sputtered up. Her eyes grew wide before she glowered at Hansel, "Did you just-"

Hansel smiled, "Kiss you? Yes."

Red blushed furiously, "Don't!"

"It's okay. It's a 'brother to sister' kiss, Gretel." Hansel gently took hold of her and hugged her.

Groaning, Red backwards away from Hansel, "Okay, okay… Just- What's this?" She had finally noticed the necklace around her throat. Blinking, she fingered it before glancing at Hansel with a question in her eyes.

"What?"

"Did you give this to me?"

"Does it look like something I can even _afford_? Remember, I'm a huntsman. I don't buy… jewelry…"

"Then… who gave it to me?"

"It wasn't on you last night, and the Wolf is the only one who came in here before…" Hansel trailed off before standing stiffly and whispering, "Stay here. I need to talk to the Wolf. _Alone_."

* * *

The Wolf was regarding the five remaining slices of bacon with greedy, hungry eyes when he heard Hansel's harsh whisper, "Wolf!"

With a small sigh, the Wolf glanced back, saw Hansel motioning at him furiously, and then stood to come over, "What?"

"Come with me." Hansel crooked a finger and walked stiffly down the hall to disappear into the bathroom.

The Wolf stared after him before blinking and hesitantly following.

The instant he stepped into the bathroom, Hansel shut the door, locked it quickly, then leaned against it with a grunt. Finally, after a few moments, he murmured, "Did you give that necklace to Gretel?"

"Yes, I did. Peter-"

Hansel's eyes glittered fiercely before he hissed ferociously, "Do you… _like_ her?"

"What?" The Wolf was shocked. "Do I like- You are joking, right?"

Hansel bared his teeth, his face reddening, his peaceful demeanor slowly dying into his usual suspicious, paranoid, and violent self. "You gave her _jewelry_. How is that supposed to make me feel? And it's not even cheap jewelry! It's the kind that people work several years just to make perfect, you know? And I'm not to suspect anything? You might as well have kissed her!"

"What? No! No! You've got it all wrong! I just gave it to her because Peter-"

Hansel silenced him with a feral snarl, "You touch her, and I will make sure you will never see the daylight of the next morning!"

"That's good, 'cause I wouldn't even think of touching her! I don't even like her! You're getting this all wrong! I was just giving her a present to thank her!"

"A necklace? As a present? You lie! That's a 'liking' present, not a 'thank you' present!"

The Wolf's anger flared, "You are a dunce! It wasn't anything!"

"Me, a dunce? You're the gluttonous freak!"

"I am not! Now stop it! I do not like her! Well, I mean, I like her, but I don't like her enough to give her a 'liking' present!"

"But you did, which mean you must like her! Now get out! I don't want you anywhere near her lest you give way to your," Hansel narrowed his hate-filled yes, "filthy urges."

"I wouldn't do that!" whined the Wolf. "And you're being paranoid! I have no love-liking for her! You're making things up and- Put that knife away." The Wolf took a step back as Hansel drew his knife from out of its hidden sheath beneath his shirt.

Brandishing his weapon, Hansel snarled, "Go elsewhere or I will make coats out of you!"

"Coats?" The Wolf shivered, the horrid scar on his back twitching as the memory of Hansel's previous attempt to make a coat out of him.

"Yes."

"…I guess… I could leave till you've calmed down a bit…" The Wolf replied cautiously.

Hansel glowered at him, "You think I'll forget it just like that? No, I think not."

"Must I yell? I do not like- Ah! No! No using the knife!" The Wolf pressed back against the tub, hissing under his breath as Hansel stepped forward, drawing the knife back in a threatening gesture to stab him.

Hansel snarled, baring his sharp teeth, before freezing when a tired knock came at the door, along with Red's voice, "Hey guys? I really need to go to the bathroom… And please don't kill each other?"

The Wolf and Hansel glowered at each other before Hansel quickly hid his hunting knife, pasted a fake smile upon his lips, and stomped to the door. Yanking it open, he whispered, "So you're finally awake? Ready to eat?"

"Yes… but I have to go to the bathroom…" Red pushed past him, saw the Wolf, and motioned to him, "Please?"

The Wolf scrambled out, followed by the rigid Hansel. As soon as the door closed, Hansel whispered, "Out."

The Wolf nodded, hurried to the door. He would come back when Hansel had lost his fury, then figure out how to make this new problem go away.


	36. Hansel's Betrayal Pt 1

Midday was not a good time for a wolf to steal out into a town, especially if he was a wolf that was hated for eating some of the town's citizens. The Wolf hated sneaking through the snow-plugged alleys, wading through piles of snow that reached as high as his stomach, but he hesitated to wander out into the main streets. If someone saw him, there was a possibility of police sprinting out with their guns, pinpricks of pain, having to run away from a mob of angry mothers and fathers and townspeople.

He finally managed to find his way out of town, but not before two little children making snowmen saw him and were so consequently eaten. Now, patting his rumbling stomach gently as he sat down upon the log in front of his mate's grave, he smiled softly before whispering, "… You should see Peter…" He scooped up some snow off of the makeshift grave. "He's such a good boy… Nothing like me." He paused, seeing the brown of dirt, and sighed, "Definitely nothing like me…" He paused, stared down at the grave, and then sniffled violently, eyes moistening. How could he have given away his mate's necklace? He suddenly wanted it back so very much.

He sat there for quite a few minutes, restraining tears, and then jerked violently when he heard soft murmurs from down the hill. Wiping hurriedly at his eyes, he glanced down, forced a smile when he saw Jhonen and Marquis gazing up at him, curiosity plastered across their face.

"Oh… it's you two… I thought you went back to wherever you-"

Together, Jhonen and Marquis questioned, "Where have you been?" They stilled, glanced at each other, smiled.

Marquis finished the question, "We went to the cave, but you weren't there. And you weren't at the house either, so we thought we'd check here. Where were you?"

The Wolf motioned to them, throat choking up, "Come here…"

Quickly, Jhonen and Marquis came up to him, and the Wolf tugged them down to sit them awkwardly on his lap. As he hugged them, he coughed, trying to clear the stiff feeling in his throat.

Jhonen and Marquis returned the hug. Softly, Jhonen asked, "Are you sad?"

The Wolf nodded into his fur, knowing that if he tried to talk, he would start crying.

Marquis reached up, stroked his father's ear, "It's okay, Papa… We came to see if we could find you… You didn't forget what time of year it's coming around to, have you?"

After a few deep breaths, the air rasping down his throat, the Wolf whispered, "What?"

"It's almost our birthdays, dummy!" Jhonen flicked at his ear.

The Wolf chuckled softly, "Of course… How could I forget? What's the date today?"

"Twenty-seventh of January."

"Oh… We missed Christmas, didn't we? Huh, now that I think of it, we didn't celebrate it at Red's house either… Maybe 'cause she's used to living alone, I think… Oh! And that was when that stupid Hansel killed my back!" The Wolf's sadness disappeared into an angry, thoughtful look.

"Papa?" sighed Marquis. "Our birthdays are this Tuesday… _Tomorrow_… We want to spend time with you and Peter… Don't be mad..."

"Oh, yes… Sorry…" The fury in the Wolf's eyes slowly died down to be replaced with fatherly love. Hugging his two sons close, he rubbed his furry cheek against theirs before whispering, "What do you two want for your birthdays?"

* * *

The Wolf returned to the house that evening, Marquis and Jhonen at his tail. Red, startled at the sudden appearance of the two black wolves, hurried to find extra food to accommodate them.

Peter was ecstatic when he heard his brothers' voices from the next room. Red could hear his yelling, "Marquis! Jhonen! Come here! Come! I want to tell you something!"

Jhonen smiled, glanced slyly at Marquis, "Did you hear something?"

With mock innocence, Marquis put a hand to his chest, sniffed prissily, "I heard a little brother in want of a tackle."

Before they could race off to pounce upon their little brother, however, the Wolf grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks, "Hey, hey… If you break his legs, then you two are not going to be having a very happy birthday."

Jhonen wiggled, "Papa! Have we ever hurt him before? We _love_ little brother!"

Marquis nodded, "We just have a very physical, 'let's tackle people' love."

Snorting a laugh, the Wolf released them, watched them tear down the hall, find the door to Red's room, and then sprint inside. The next moment, he heard Peter's surprised shriek before it died to howling laughter.

"No! No! No! No tickling! You're killing me! Ah! Papa! Help!"

Chuckling, the Wolf turned, saw Hansel's disgusted eyes upon him, and then quickly glanced towards Red. He opened his mouth, ready to joke about her poring through the cookbook, but the words froze in his mouth when he saw the necklace. What a wretched but wonderful memory it brought! Taking a deep breath to compose himself, he whispered, "… Red?"

"Yes?" Red glanced up from her cookbook.

"What… do you think of my… belated Christmas present?" The Wolf made a small motion towards his neck, ears twitching a bit.

"Oh, you gave this to me?" Red glanced down, fingering the sapphire, and then smiled, "I really like it… It's very pretty."

The Wolf felt Hansel's glare intensify, willed himself not to look over. Slowly, he stammered, "Really?" Oh, what he wouldn't do to hide that away! What devil had possessed him to give that to her? Peter? Why the necklace, then? It hurt him just to look at it!

Red stared at the Wolf, whose body had suddenly started to twitch. "…Yes… Are you… okay?"

The Wolf coughed, clearing his throat, and then whispered, "I'll be right back…" Turning, he scurried out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into Red's bedroom.

Jhonen and Marquis were sitting at Peter's sides, petting him gently as Peter grumbled, still annoyed at his older brothers' tickle attack. The twins glancing up as their father entered, Peter muttered, "Is that papa?"

Jhonen smiled, patted him softly, "Of course. Papa, why the look?"

Shutting the door behind him, the Wolf leaned back against it, clutching his chest, "Peter, tell them about the present thing."

For the next two minutes, Peter happily squeaked out their little plan, and Jhonen and Marquis finally glanced back at their father, asked, "So…?"

"I gave her your mother's necklace."

Jhonen and Marquis froze, staring at the Wolf in startled disbelief. Peter, however, grew angry and pounded at the blankets, "You gave it to her already? You said you would wake me up and I could give it to her!" He crossed his arms furiously and glared down at the blanket with blind eyes.

"You gave her… mama's necklace?" Jhonen finally asked quietly.

"And it's killing me! I can't look at her without thinking about-"

Marquis sighed, "Is it the necklace you gave her for your first-"

"Yes."

"The one you took off of her after-" Marquis paused, glanced back at Peter, and then mouthed, "she was dead?"

The Wolf stilled before nodding miserably, "Yes…" He was happy that Marquis hadn't said the 'dead' part aloud. Peter still had his hope that his mama was still alive, and, sometimes, he was sure that it was the only thing that kept him happy.

"And it has the big, blue pebble on it?"

"Yes! Please! I have to get it off of her! It's killing me!" The Wolf slid to the floor, put his head in his hands, and groaned loudly.

Peter squeaked angrily, "You can't do that! You already gave it to her as a present! And mama always said that you can't take back a present 'cause it's rude!"

Jhonen and Marquis smiled sadly, patted Peter's shivering head softly, "Peter… Papa's hurting right now… Just be quiet, okay?"

"But then what will be Marie's present?" whined Peter, his whitish-blonde ears laid back against his skull. "And Papa can't be rude! He says being rude is like killing a little bunny!"

The Wolf couldn't help but chuckle. He had tried to explain why being 'rude' was wrong to Peter and had used that little metaphor, for Peter held an unnatural love for rabbits. "It's not the same here, Peter."

"Just ask her." Suggested Marquis.

"Or we can hold her down." Smirked Jhonen, who then flinched as Marquis shoved his shoulder with an annoyed look on his face.

"We couldn't do that to Red! Remember, she's Peter's friend!"

"But the-"

Jhonen interrupted the Wolf, "You'll get it back, papa, don't worry. Just do it tonight while she's sleeping."

The Wolf licked his lips before taking a deep breath and nodding, "Yes… I'll do that. Okay… Peter! Nothing of this to Red or Hansel!"

Peter fumed, "Rude, rude, rude!"

* * *

For the rest of the day, the Wolf avoided directly looking at both Red, because she had the necklace, and Hansel, who was still suspicious after that morning's events. Curious about the Wolf's behavior, Red turned to Hansel and Peter more than once and asked, "Is he okay?"

Peter's answer was always the same, always said in the same sullen voice. "Papa's okay… He's just sad today."

Hansel's response would scare her: "Why do you care? Do you have feelings for him? Do you?" This was always accompanied by a reddening face, gritted teeth, narrowed eyes, and an accusing tone.

Finally, night came, and the house quieted as the occupants wandered to their beds.

Hansel went to bed early, claiming his bare side room and the wrinkled, dusty blankets as his as usual. Peter slept by Red in her bed, and Jhonen, Marquis, and the Wolf slept in the kitchen next to the warm stove.

The Wolf, however, was not asleep, but waiting. When he was sure it was late enough that no one would be even slightly awake, he crept up, eyes glinting, and stole over his sons to the kitchen door. Tiptoeing into the hall, he glanced secretly up and down, making sure there was no Hansel, and then hurried to Red's bedroom door, creaked it open, and slid inside silently.

The window was covered by curtains, making the room turn a blinding black when he closed the door behind him. Stealing forward blindly, he found the corner of the bed, sighed in relief, and slowly pulled himself up. He found the raised lumps in the covers that were Red's legs, softly felt upwards to see if he could find her neck and the necklace he so desperately needed to be rid of.

He never saw the musket's hard barrel swing harshly towards his head, but only felt the piercing pain as it connected with his skull. Almost instantly, he slid off the bed, thumped to the floor, and lay there, unconscious.

Hansel grinned sharply, dropped his musket, and bent. He had stolen to Red's room several hours before, had let his eyes grow accustomed to the dark. He had known that the Wolf would come in, trying to realize his twisted desires, but he had been there to stop the beast.

But what to do with the Wolf now that he was at his mercy?

Hansel jerked when he heard a little whimper. Narrowing his eyes, he glared over to where Peter was shivering, his eyes wide, his ears twitching. Instantly, Hansel stalked over Peter's side of the bed, leaned over, and hissed softly. The sound enough was scare Peter out of his wits. Curling up, he whimpered through his sobs, "Please… Please don't hurt me… Please don't hurt me…"

Grabbing Peter by the scruff of the neck, Hansel hauled him up, whispered into his ear, "What did you hear?"

"Papa's steps and a whoosh and a thump and… and… Please don't hurt me…" Peter cried, little tears staining his fur. His little fingers came up, covered his face.

Hansel smiled, bent his head, and softly murmured, "If you tell Gretel, I will make you disappear."

"Don't… please…" Peter's tail dipped between his legs, trembling with fright.

"As long you don't tell, I will do nothing to you." Hansel pulled down the covers, set him back down, and then pulled the covers up again. With a small, happy sound, he patted Peter on the head, turned, and then grabbed the Wolf's hind paws. He dragged the Wolf out of the room, leaving Peter to cry underneath the warm covers.


	37. Hansel's Betrayal Pt 2

Morning came too early for Hansel, who woke up to Red's hands shaking his shoulder.

"Hansel? Hey, Hansel?"

"Urgh… Stop it… I'm so tired…" Hansel curled up, shuddering under his blankets.

"Hansel? Please wake up… Did you hear the Wolf go out last night? He's not here."

"Probably went to hunt innocent, little children… Now, let me sleep." Hansel turned from her, pulled the cover over himself.

"Wake up!" Red poked him angrily.

Angrily, Hansel sat up, blinked in an attempt to rid his eyes of the blurriness that plagued them. With a small snort, he stood, scratched at his chest, and then pulled his shirt off with a hiss of annoyance. "Well, well… Let's see. Wolf's gone, you have to make me lose sleep. Why? How does that work?"

"Peter's crying."

Hansel stiffened before sniffing, "What's he saying?"

"Nothing… He's just… _crying._"

"Does that automatically make me a suspect?" Hansel crossed his arms, grimacing.

"No, but-"

Marquis and Jhonen peered in from the door, where they had been listening in. With narrowed eyes, Jhonen growled, "Well, papa _did _have an argument with you."

"And you did cut a big part off of his back…"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Papa just doesn't disappear like that!" hissed Jhonen. "He says 'goodbye, I'm going to hunt' or something!"

"I didn't do a thing! Now stop it! I was the first one to bed last night, and, apparently, the last one to wake up. I was too tired to wake up and do anything… And how could I do anything anyways? Bullets don't hurt him." Hansel frowned, bared his teeth.

"Never asked you if you shot him, stupid. I asked you if you know what happened to him."

"I have no idea!"

Red was about to stop the escalating argument when Peter's cracking voice called from the other room, "Marquis! Jhonen! Please! Come here!"

Marquis and Jhonen disappeared, racing to see Peter.

* * *

Hansel was halfway through eating his breakfast when a furious knock came at the door. When Red opened it, Pinocchio shoved in, shedding snow from his coat. Slamming the door behind him, he hissed, "What happened?"

"Huh?" Red stared up at him.

"Last night! What happened? Did the Wolf anger you somehow? Why was he out there?" Pinocchio shivered in fury, fingers clenched into his palms.

"What? The Wolf? He was out there?"

"You don't know? This morning, we respond to a little riot going uptown, and we find the Wolf in the middle of the street, tied up and nearly beaten to death by a mob of people! We had to threaten to shoot the people before they'd let him go!"

"What?" Red's face paled.

"As it is, he's on his way to the big city now, sentenced to De Lille! It's 'too dangerous' here for a prisoner awaiting trial, but who are they joking? De Lille? That's a pure death sentence if I ever heard one! Anyways, Miller even came to the jail this morning, tried to shoot him while he was behind bars, so we had to give up bliddy jurisdiction! I hate it! I warned him what would happen, but no! No! No! No!" Pinocchio took off his cap, threw it to the ground before glaring at her. "You really didn't know?"

Before Red could answer, Hansel appeared at her back, face pale with rage, "What are you doing here?"

"Did you have something to do with this Hansel? The Wolf, tied up and beaten?"

"No, I di-" Hansel stopped when he heard soft growls from behind him. Turning, he saw Jhonen and Marquis, lips raised to bare their sharp canine teeth.

"Peter told us, Hansel." Hissed Jhonen, his paws shuddering in anger.

Hansel stared before backing up slowly, "Bloody brat…"

* * *

Jhonen and Marquis, consumed with rage, chased Hansel out into the streets. Hansel would have died if the citizens, still riled by the police's rescue of the Wolf, turned their hatred upon these two new ones. In the end, Marquis and Jhonen ran for their lives, fearful of the guns and swords and other sharp instruments.

When Hansel returned to Red's house, proudly wiping off his shirt, he was met with a surprising amount of rage. Red swore she would never let him in again, not as long as she lived, and screamed at him through the door that she would never be his sister again. Shocked, Hansel took it rather badly. He staggered off, sobbing into his hands.

Pinocchio had left to quell the furious citizens' anger, leaving Red and Peter to sort out what had happened that day and the night before.

Peter recounted the whole story to her, sobbing the whole while, and then cried himself to sleep on her lap. As he slept, Red fingered the necklace, fuming. This necklace had caused everything to go wrong. The Wolf was right to want to get rid of it, but why hadn't he just asked her? She would have given it back if it had meant so much to him, if he had just _asked_.

With a small sigh, she stroked Peter's head softly, watched his trembling slowly calm to a little twitch, and then gently pushed him from her lap. Arranging him on the bed, she pulled the covers up over him before slipping underneath herself and putting a reassuring arm over Peter.

Peter cuddled up to her in his sleep, squeaking, and pressed his head against her chest with a mumbled, "…Papa…"

Red smiled sadly, resumed her stroking of Peter's ears.

* * *

The next day passed slowly with only Peter and Red in the house. Peter was miserable, curling up in bed the whole day, refusing to eat, and only moving to call her when he needed to relieve himself in the restroom. That night, Red finally snapped, dragged the wailing Peter to the kitchen so he could eat.

Sniffling at the table, eyes sad, Peter turned the little slice of bread in his hands before dropping it to the floor, "I'm not hungry…"

Red glared at him, "You need to eat."

"…I'm not hungry…" repeated Peter sullenly.

"I don't want you to starve, Peter."

Peter's ears twitched towards her voice before he slowly turned his head towards her. Eyes filling with tears, he whispered, "I could've helped papa…"

Sensing an imminent wave of tears, Red sighed, put down the little bowl of sugared milk she had been preparing for him and wandered over to embrace him. Peter buried his head in the front of her dress, his little fingers curling up in her back, and started to bawl, "I could've stopped the Hansel man and I couldn't! I hate being blind and useless!"

Red traced the fur of his ears and neck softly and cooed, "You're not useless, Peter. You're a good, little boy."

"But I can't do anything!" Peter let his face drift out of the cloth, turn up towards her. The fur under his eyes was a soaked brown from the tears.

Red bent, kissed the tip of his nose, "But you can be my best friend."

Peter let out a new wave of sobs, buried his face into her dress again.

For the next five minutes, Red was obliged to stand there, becoming the handkerchief for the little wolf. Finally, she reached down, gently extracted herself from his grasp, and whispered, "Are you sure you don't want anything to eat?"

Peter snuffled, wiping at his face furiously. With a little moan, he nodded, "Milk."

"No bread? Or cake? I could make you cake."

"Just milk…" mumbled Peter, downcast and choked.


	38. The Witch

After drinking a few bowls of sugared milk, Peter fell fast asleep against Red. She had just put him down to sleep when a solemn knock came at the door. She patted Peter's head one last time before hurrying out of the room to open the front door.

It was Hansel.

"Gretel! Let me in! Please…" Hansel stared helplessly at the door that had been slammed so unceremoniously into his face.

"Get away from my door! You're not welcome here anymore! Go away!"

"…Gretel… I'm sorry… Please, just let me in… I want to talk to Peter… You can tie my hands behind my back if you want." Hansel pressed up against the door, face grieving, eyes glittering sadly.

Red narrowed her eyes, peeked out through one of the frosted panes of the side windows, and saw the look on Hansel's face. With an angry huff, she stomped to the door, yanked it open, and hissed, "Fine!"

* * *

Fuming, Red sat in front of the closed door that led to her bedroom. Inside, she could hear the dull murmur of Hansel's voice, and her mind's ear imagined what Peter would be whimpering back. However, she believed he would be okay, for she had taken up Hansel on his word and had tied his hands behind his back with cord. 

What were they talking about in there? If Hansel even dared make Peter cry again, she would call the asylum herself, watch them cart him away! But… that would be cruel…

"Gretel?"

Startled by Hansel's voice, Red hurried up, opened the door, peered in, "Yes?"

Blushing, Hansel muttered, "Seems I was mistaken… I really thought that the necklace was a 'liking' present… and when the Wolf came in, I thought he was going to do bad things to you… Just a present…"

Red was busy staring at his hands before squawking angrily, "I tied you up! Why are you-"

"You need to learn how to tie knots, Gretel… Well… I'm sorry for all of this…" Hansel scratched at his blonde hair, avoiding glancing at Red directly as he grew ashamed. When Red snorted grimly, his eyes narrowed in shame, "I am… I really am… I just thought I was doing the right… thing…"

Peter sat at the bed, eyes wide as his ears swiveled towards Hansel's voice. "Marie?"

"Huh? Yes, Peter?"

"… Hansel said he was sorry, and he said that-"

Hansel shushed him hastily, "Not yet. Tomorrow morning, alright?"

Peter flinched at Hansel's harsh voice, "Yes! Yes!"

Red stared at Hansel before glancing at Peter with a question in her eyes. What were they talking about?

* * *

Hansel shook her awake very early the next morning. Outside, night still lurked, the snow drifts housing icy strips of frozen water where little brown flowers had long been frozen. The stars still held the sky in their possession, having hidden the moon behind a black blanket as they were allowed to do once a month. To Red's surprise, he had already woken up Peter, wrapping the little wolf in his leather jacket and stuffing multiple socks over all four of his paws. Hansel himself would not talk to her as they departed. In his arms was Peter, still sleeping. Red trailed behind, shivering in the gray wolf fur coat. 

As morning dawned over the trees and hill of the forest, Red asked for the seventh time, "Where are we going?"

Hansel stopped, glanced back, and smiled glumly, "I'll tell you if my trap was good."

"Trap?"

"I put up a rabbit snare yesterday before I came. I just really hope there's a rabbit in it." Hansel readjusted his hold on Peter, the musket jolting in the strap that ran across his back.

"You woke us up at three in the morning to come see if you caught a rabbit?" Red's face grew crimson in annoyed anger.

Hansel rolled his eyes, smiled, "It's where we're going after we see if there's a rabbit."

"And where's that?"

"You'll _see_. Just stop talking, now, please? If there's a rabbit, I have to get it out of the snare _alive_." Hansel turned, tromped forward a few steps, and then paused before turning again to face Red, "Hold Peter."

Red couldn't really _hold_ Peter, but she managed to keep most of him out of the snow as Hansel disappeared off into the trees. He was only gone a few minutes, five at most, before he reappeared, a struggling rabbit in his hands. On his face lay a bright, sharp smile, "We were lucky."

"What's the rabbit for?"

Ignoring Red's question, Hansel smirked, "There's another one, if Peter wakes up and is hungry."

"He doesn't eat rabbits."

"Ah… Well, then… We'll just see how he fares till we get back to the house." Hansel restrained the rabbit with one hand as he pulled some sturdy cord from his pocket. With a few quick knots, he tied the rabbit up so it could barely move, tied it to his belt with nary a glint of sympathy in his eye, came over to Red to relieve her of the burden of Peter, and then nodded, "Follow me."

* * *

They walked another hour, sticking close to the iced-over river. At one point, Hansel even showed interest in crossing it, but Red refused, not willing to take the chance of cracking ice and freezing water. Finally, Hansel found a little bridge, crossed there, and then doubled back for a scant fifteen minutes before stopping, shivering, and whispering. "Hold Peter for me." 

Red obeyed, watched as Hansel undid the rabbit from his belt. Hansel held it up, stroking the small, trembling ears tenderly, and then whispered, "I want you to watch the rabbit as we get closer."

"Huh?"

"Just watch it. Now, come slowly." Hansel started to step forward tentatively, the rabbit dangling from his hand.

For the next two minutes, there was no noticeable response from the rabbit, and Red was about to ask Hansel if this was all a big joke when the rabbit began to squirm, jerking against its bonds vainly. Little, squeaky screams startled her.Then, the rabbit fell limp, and Hansel stopped, staring at it. Poking it, he sighed, "Always do that, you know… Their hearts explode on them whenever they get to this _one_ place…" He pushed his thumb against the rabbit's nose, glanced at it afterwards, and grimaced when he saw blood on it.

Red stared, frightened, "What… what was that?"

"Little animals don't like going anywhere near her… The rabbits always have heart attacks. Stupid creatures." said Hansel, more to himself than to her as he tied the rabbit back to his belt.

"Her?"

"Oh, well… I guess I could tell you now…" Hansel glanced furtively at hers, reaching out to take Peter again.

"What?" Instinctively, Red clutched Peter closer to her, staring up into Hansel's face.

Hansel paused, eyes flashing, and then smiled softly, "Now, Gretel… You don't have to worry… They're not immortal, you know…"

"What's not?" Hansel's avoidance of actually naming the thing or person was scaring Red. What was it? A monster?

Ignoring her questions still, Hansel lilted gently, "And I'll protect you, Gretel. All I ask is that you don't go within a foot of her. She could hurt you, you know. Now, give me Peter, and we can find the entrance to the cave –it's somewhere under the snow here- and we can make a little fire to make ourselves warm before waking her up."

"Who?" cried Red, infuriated at his constant avoidance of the subject.

A sly grin crossed Hansel's face after a moment of thought. "Oh… You'll see…"

* * *

Hansel found the entrance to the cave after a few minutes of digging and practically had to drag a paranoid Red down into the hole. The tunnel leading in was granite, a sharp gray on all sides that seemed to have many jutting parts made especially to catch the folds of clothes and coats. However, when they entered the first room, Red was pleasantly surprised to find a little stove in the corner and a large pile of moth-eaten cushions in the opposite. Unlike the gray tunnel, it seemed to be made of warm-colored sandstone. Hansel hastily gathered some cushions, laid the still sleeping Peter down upon them gently, and then motioned to Red, "Start the stove. It'll warm this place up." Glancing down, he unhooked the rabbit from his side, and held it out to Red, "And cook that. Pans are beside the stove." 

"What?" Red took it and glanced at the rabbit distastefully. "I don't even have-"

"I'm not asking for something especially good. For all I care, you could burn it to cinders… If you need a knife, I have one here." Hansel reached under his coat, grimaced, rummaged around until he found a place to slip his hand through the space of the buttons in his undershirt, and then pulled out his dagger. Wiping a smear off with his dirty thumb, he held it out.

When Red hesitated, he sighed, yanked the rabbit back, and muttered, "I'll skin it. Just… make it warm. And don't go into the next room!" Suddenly angry, Hansel turned, stomped into the tunnel that led to the snowy surface, intent on skinning the rabbit.

Red stared after him before glancing the disheveled, dented metal door at the farthest corner of the room apprehensively. Was that where the monster was? The thing that Hansel kept referring too in that scary way of his?

* * *

Hansel came back in ten minutes, holding the dripping, bloody corpse of the rabbit in one hand, the mangled fur in the other. Red sullenly cooked it, paying no attention to how it turned out, for Hansel seemed impatient. When it was finally fully cooked, Hansel took it straight from the pan, tied it by its hind legs, and then held it in his hand as he started for the metal door. 

"Gretel? Do you want to see?"

Red hesitantly opened her mouth before whispering, "Tell me what it is first…"

Hansel grinned sharply, "Oh, you would know if you only went to see it, Gretel. Why don't you take a guess?"

"… A monster?"

"I wouldn't go as far to call her that, but you're pretty close."

Licking her lips, Red came forward slowly, "Okay… I'll see… but if I don't know what it is… you have to tell me…"

"Agreed. Just stay behind me." Hansel grabbed the handle of the door, twisted it viciously to the right, and dragged it open with a grunt. As it inched open sluggishly, he slipped in, taking a little box of matches from his pocket. He lit one. Then, as he blindly groped for the torch, Red peered beneath his arm, saw nothing, for the room needed much more light to be fully illuminated.

However, when the torch flared up under Hansel's touch, she stepped back, her hands over her mouth, and squeaked in surprise.

On the opposite wall, just in front of the door, was a person. Slumped down against the hard rock, her wrists chained to round metal rings that were securely fastened to the granite, the lady twitched slightly as the light fell across her body. Her ragged skirt had long tears which showed bits and pieces of her slip underneath, and a handsome countrywoman's petticoat covered her torso. It might have once been beautiful, but long inattention and beatings had reduced it to ripped and shredded rags. Her skin was black with age, wrinkled, almost _moldy_, and her knotted white hair covered a face that would be sure to send most toddlers screaming.

Whistling a bright tune as he advanced on the woman, Hansel knelt, raised his thumb to his mouth, and bit at it. He smiled when he saw the little gash he made before reaching forward, lifting the woman's chin, revealing a horrid, wrinkled, sagging face, and pushing his thumb against her lips. "Come on…"

The woman lay still under his hand.

Overcoming her surprise, Red felt her rage well up in her throat. Hissing, she stalked in, furious, "Hansel! Who the heck is that? What did you do to her? How could you do that to a poor, old lady?"

Hansel smiled, ignoring her anger, "Well… I wouldn't exactly say that… Oh, look… Here she is…"

The old woman was stirring, moaning as her body twisted, trying to stretch but unable to. Her eyes flickered open after a moment, revealing piercing golden eyes, and she mumbled, "…Hmm…? Has it already been two months…? Oh, your finger." The woman turned her eyes down to Hansel's thumb before smiling, trying to lick at the blood with a greedy grunt.

"Now, now…" Hansel dropped his hand, causing the woman to stop her attempt at his thumb and sigh. "I haven't been by for three months now, so I can understand you're hungry."

"…Just food. I want my food…" The woman glanced up beyond Hansel's shoulder to let her eyes settle upon Red. A small, tired smile came across her face, "Who's that?"

"My sister."

"How… luscious."

Hansel glared at her before standing, disappearing from the room, and returning with a key. Squatting down, he muttered, "I'm going to unlock you now, but you have to give me-" He lowered his voice so Red couldn't hear him.

The woman narrowed her eyes, "No."

Hansel stopped, the key in the lock, and then sighed, "Okay then… I guess I could leave you hear for another three months without food… Come back when you're more willing."

Eyes widening, the woman squeaked, "No. Just… let me out first."

"No. Give me the thing first."

Sighing, the woman grumbled, "It's in my pocket." When Hansel reached for the little pocket sewn over the woman's left breast, she hissed, "My skirt pocket, you fool!"

Hastily, Hansel dug his hand into the skirt pocket, drew out a sparkly, electric-blue stone. Glancing it over, he grunted, slid it into his own pocket, and then quickly unlatched the woman's hands.

Leaning forward, moaning, the woman chafed at her wrists before glowering irritably at Hansel, "So, what is it? Another thing with that stupid musket of you?"

Hansel held out his hand, "Give me your hands."

The woman had them clutched against her chest instantly, eyes fearful and suspicious, "What will you do to them?"

"Take off the marks."

The woman blinked before muttering, "Both of them?"

Red was lost. What marks? Why was Hansel still avoiding telling her why he had this lady here?

"Yes, both of them."

The woman held out her hands hesitantly. Taking them, Hansel licked the tip of his thumb and began to furiously rub at the two chalk etchings on the back of the woman's hands.

The woman watched before hissing, "Enough, enough!" She yanked her hands away, stared at the scuffed marks on the back of her hands, and then grinned slyly. Waving her hand, she grabbed hold of a cup as it popped up in front of her and began to drink greedily from the water.

Red squawked in horror, took a few steps back before whispered in disbelief, "A witch!"

Hansel nodded happily, "Told you that you would remember."

The witch rolled her eyes, irritated, "Enough. I want my food. I see a child. Is she-"

Suddenly, the witch was screeching, dragged down by her hair as Hansel snarled, "You even touch her, Morgan, and I'll finish what I was meaning to do seven years ago!"

"Let go! Let go!" Morgan reached up, hands sparking, but the small strips of light scattered across Hansel's skin and clothes to dive into the pocket where he had hidden away the blue stone.

Smirking, Hansel released her, stood, and motioned, "I brought you a rabbit. You can have that, and, if you're very good, I'll bring you something _bigger_ tonight." To Red, it was obvious he was lying.

Morgan grumbled, rubbing her scalp as she glowered after Hansel. Red caught a few words as the witch staggered up: "Dumb Hansel… He'll get his… Going to eat his liver first, watch him suffer… Rabbit? Ha! I could eat a multitude of rabbits… wouldn't do a thing!" She stormed from the room.

Next moment, Hansel's voice came from the next room, "Gretel!"

* * *

After minutes of arguments and debating over the cooked rabbit, Morgan finally relented to do the work before eating, although she was angry and reluctant to do so. 

Staring hungrily at the rabbit, Morgan whispered, "What do you want? Charms on your musket? That's what you usually ask for." She ripped her eyes from the cooked corpse, glared at Hansel.

"Chateau De Lille."

Morgan blinked before asking, "What about it?"

"One of our friends, his father," Hansel jerked a thumb at Peter, who was still sleeping, "is imprisoned there. We need to get him out."

"Why? What did he do?"

"Let's say that I made a very big mistake."

After a few moments, Morgan nodded, "I need a flat surface."

Hansel scrambled away, digging under the empty cushion cases in the corner before he found a small foldable desk. As he struggled with it, trying to unbend it, Morgan glanced at Red, licked her lips, and patted her stomach with a moan to herself, "What I wouldn't do for a child…"

Red, unnerved, took another step back.

"What's wrong, child? Scared of Auntie Morgan?" The witch giggled gleefully before cracking her knuckles, "Old girl's still got it!"

Hansel dragged the unfolded desk over, wiped a hand through the dust that covered it, and then mumbled, "There. Now, every way in and out of De Lille and everything inside. You can do that."

Morgan bit her lip before pleading, "Just a leg? Please? I can work while I eat…"

Sighing, Hansel took his dagger, hastily cut a leg from the rabbit, and tossed it to Morgan. The witch immediately buried her teeth into it, eyes glittering with greedy hunger. As she held the rabbit leg with her right hand, her left strayed onto the table, twitched.

Instantly, a little see-through chateau stood on the table, surrounded by small brick houses the size of Red's fist. Twirling a finger, Morgan caused the chateau to grow, turning, magnifying on the main gate.

Red stared at the miniature castle before hearing a sharp crack from Morgan. Jerking, she stared at Morgan, who was gnawing at the bone angrily, trying to figure out how eat it. Between her furious bites, she muttered, "Main gate: impenetrable. Portcullis, heaviest oak doors I've ever heard of, not to mention half-a-fifty men." She crammed the bone into her mouth, swallowed it, and then sighed happily before twitching her fingers again. The castle twisted.

"Le comte de Servons had this servant's entrance put in. Now deemed inaccessible because of the moat. They don't even lock it and- What is it, girl?"

Red was staring a Morgan's hair, which was slowly turning from a steel gray to a dark gold. "Your… your hair!"

"Yes, I'm getting my color back." Snorted Morgan before snapping her fingers.

The little door opened, and Red and Hansel suddenly found themselves peering into a stone, torch-lit hall a foot high.

"Leads to a hall, usually empty. Prisoner cells are," Morgan clapped her hands together, licking her teeth as she snuck a glance at Red. The hall grew out of focus before it jolted up a few stairs and appeared at a grand hall. It rose a few levels, showing balconies and stair wells that opened up to this central atrium, before disappearing into a door that led into the west wing, "in the west. Low-priority, higher levels; Higher-priority, lower levels; and, -Hansel, could I have the other leg?"

Hansel cut the other leg off the rabbit, handed it to Morgan, who didn't even bother to enjoy as it as she shoved it all into her mouth. For a few seconds, she struggled to swallow before finally doing so, clearing her throat, and shutting her fist, "Then, you can go back and go out the way you came."

The castle wrenched out of sight.

"I'm done now… Please… Give the rabbit…"

Red stared at Morgan's skin, which was becoming smooth and paler as she watched. Was this what food did to a witch? Rejuvenate her?

"No, no! What happens if our way in was blocked?" Hansel asked, smirking. He seemed to be asking the question more for the sake of taunting Morgan than to actually find out.

"Ah!" Angrily, Morgan summoned back the miniature castle, twisted it around till they were back in the west wing. "If you get cut off, you go up, towards the main gate, except there's a little side passage here that leads to a little window about twelve feet off the water. And I didn't add that as a way in 'cause ladders don't stand on water, if that's what you were going to ask." Morgan glared at Hansel, who had opened his mouth to ask precisely that question. "Now give me my food."

Hansel tossed her the rabbit, and Red scrambled back as Morgan snatched it out of the air and tore into it ravenously, making horrible, little noises of satisfaction in the back of her throat.

Hansel sneered, "Now, now, Morgan, using bad table manners, are we?"

"Shut up! You owe me a-" Morgan's eyes suddenly widened before she dropped the corpse of the bunny, hurried to the table, where the castle was still flickering, and rapidly turned her hand. Halls turned to narrow crevices before opening up to show a great cavern in the first underground floor of De Lille. In the center of the pictured scene was a large pit. With a small hiss, Morgan fanned the picture away before muttering, "Never mind the second escape. You _have_ to go where you first came."

"Huh? What? What was that?" Hansel gazed at her with a question in his hands.

"A terror hole, a nightmare room, a horror pit, whatever you would like to call it. Never knew they had one in De Lille…" Morgan tapped her chin thoughtfully, a grimace on her face, before she glared at Hansel, "You don't want to fall into one of those."

"Never heard of one." Shrugged Hansel.

Morgan's eyes glinted angrily, "Should I tell you? I don't want to be left here because my captor fell into some God-forsaken terror-"

"No, don't tell me. I can't be afraid of things I don't know about." Hansel smiled before taking the musket from his back, "Now…"

Morgan's anger dissipated, and she sighed, "A charm on your gun?"

"Several please." Hansel settled down on the chair, putting his hands together on his stomach as he prepared to wait.

* * *

After Morgan grudgingly layered charm after charm upon the musket, Hansel locked her back into her cuffs, locked her in after chalking the magic restraints upon her hands, and then left to find another rabbit or a pheasant for the hungry witch. He came back thirty minutes later, dragging a large wild pheasant behind him. 

Red swore she would not touch it, and Hansel was obliged to loose Morgan again so she would cook the meat for herself.

Bouncing around the stove in excitement, rubbing her hands with eager hunger glinting in her eyes, Morgan whispered, "Oh! Oh! Why must it take so long?"

Hansel, bored, was scraping at the dried blood that caked the inside of the rabbit fur. Glancing up, he grimaced, "You seem excited."

"First time I get to cook in seven years, not having to eat one of your burnt horrors! It has to be cooked just right!" Morgan grinned, eyes glazing over as she imagined some little scene.

Warily, Hansel asked, "What are you thinking?"

"Oh… Pheasant meat's okay… But if I could just have a bite of a child!" Morgan cast a greedy glance at Red.

Next instant, she shrieked, clawing at the knife that sprouted from her side. Red-faced, Hansel stood, "There will be no talking like that as long as I'm here."

"You stabbed me!" Morgan yanked the knife out, flinched, and then threw it down angrily.

Red stared, Peter clutching at her shoulders at the sound of fury in the two people's voices.

Hansel picked up the dagger, glared at the blood that covered it, and then tried to reconcile his actions, "Well, you're not going to die."

"But it hurt!" Morgan touched her fingers to her side, glared at the blood that came off to stain at her fingers.

"Ah, come on… It's nothing. You'll just _magic _yourself better." Hansel turned, wiping the blood off on the corner of his shirt.

Angrily, Morgan whirled on the stove, glowered at it, and then yanked to open the door to the space inside open. With a small snarl, she grabbed the pot with her bare hands, not seeming to feel the pain, and put it atop the stovetop. Kicking the door shut, she waved at the steam raising from the pheasant before drawing in a deep breath and relaxing, "Oh… Wonderful _food_."

Hansel sat down with a grunt, "And who's the one who feeds you?"

"You… unfortunately. If you hadn't been able to restrain my magic with that stupid little chalk thing of yours, I would have had your head for an entrée. So… shut up."

"I love that chalk… Only reacts to my spit, you, of course, know. See, you could have been a good witch, making magic chalk like that… But all I was asking for a 'thank you', but you're too stubborn even for that?" Hansel picked at his fingernails, pretending to be uninterested.

"…I'm not stubborn." The witch glared at him.

"Ah yes… Stubborn Morgan, who screamed nonstop for the first five hours she was locked up?"

"Shut up!"

"I would ask you to do the same, but you look like you're about to do that by stuffing your fat face."

Morgan opened her mouth, furious, and then paused, lost for a reply. Glancing at the pheasant longingly, she licked her lips slowly before asking, "Do I really look fat?"

"Fat as a pig." Smirked Hansel.

Red stared. Fat? The witch was emaciated!

Morgan smoothed the wrinkles in her dress, her golden, knotted hair making a small noise like wind through leaves as it brushed across her shoulders, "Well… I could eat just enough to improve my appearance, don't you think?"

Hansel gazed at her with mocking eyes, "And what would improve your appearance? I believe they haven't found a counter-spell to that curse."

Morgan stared at him, speechless, and then turned to the pheasant, angrily tore a piece of meat from it, and nibbled at it furiously, muttering under her breath. "Stupid Hansel… I'm not ugly. I'm not. That's why I eat. And I'm hungry. Those are the reasons I- He doesn't know anything! He's a man! Stupid man!"

Hansel chuckled, returned to scraping the rabbit fur.

* * *

After Morgan had eaten the whole pheasant, bones and all, Hansel locked her up, took up Peter, and started to hurry home with Red through a small wind storm that had picked up. Little snowflakes were pelted up into their faces, the mere touch stinging their cheeks and nose. They finally reached the house late at night, and Hansel immediately lay Peter, who had fallen asleep again, down in the bed, arms numb, and flopped down to fall asleep almost instantly. Red, also exhausted, took her slow time dressing in pajamas. When she came to her room to sleep and found Hansel asleep upon her bed, she sighed, pushed him so he wasn't sprawled over the whole mattress, and slipped in besides Peter, whose fur warmed her arms in instant.

She was just falling asleep when Peter left her arms, found Hansel's back, and hugged it, whining in his sleep.

"Papa… Papa…"

Red, eyelids heavy, gazed at them for a few moments before sighing, deciding not to anything about it, and settling back down into her pillow. If it took dreams to make Hansel and Peter on good terms with the other, then so be it.


	39. De Lille

The next morning, Red woke up late, groaning. Her head hurt, her feet ached, and her pajama shirt was half unbuttoned and twisted uncomfortably around her body. Slowly, she slid out of bed, leaving the lump that was Peter under the covers to snooze on as she wandered to the bathroom, muttering under her breath. She washed her face with the cold water that was left in the small, wooden basin, relieved how it almost rid her of the headache.

After wetting her face and her hair completely, she stalked out to the kitchen, fuming as the headache pounded at the back of her skull. She headed directly for the cupboards, intent on finding some eggs or ham to cook for breakfast, but then paused when she saw a fluttering piece of parchment on the counter. Curious, she picked it up, shook it open, and quickly scanned the innards, the words that made it up.

Next moment, she threw it down with a furious grumble, "He didn't!"

* * *

Pinocchio opened his door slowly, yawning as he scratched idly at his wooden cheek. Glancing out, the little point of his nightcap hanging down in front of his forehead, he blinked before asking, "Red? What are you doing here?"

Red shivered, pulling her red cloak closer around her. She had left the fur coat at home in hopes it had somewhat gotten warmer, but no luck. "Oh… Hello… Um… Could I borrow your horse?"

Pinocchio stared at her before snorting, "_What_?"

Desperate, Red clapped her hands together, eyes wide and pleading as they gazed up into the wooden man's face. "Please? Hansel left this morning to go to De Lille and-"

Grabbing her, Pinocchio yanked her inside, slammed the door shut, whirled, and hissed, "What? What did you just say?"

"Hansel's going to De Lille and-"

"What's he planning to do? Kill himself? De Lille is _impenetrable_! I used to be a constable there! I should know!" Pinocchio put a hand to his forehead, groaned.

"So… Could I borrow your horse?"

"What about my horse?"

"I need to ride after Hansel, bring him back." Lied Red, hands fidgeting behind her back.

"Why my horse?"

Red blushed, "Because it's wooden…"

Pinocchio frowned, "… And?"

"It's like a big rocking horse?" Red grinned hopefully.

With a sigh, Pinocchio crooked a finger at Red, turned, and murmured, "Follow."

* * *

Hansel had left early that morning on foot, his musket strapped to his back as usual, a thick shirt covering his thin and shivering body. He knew the way to the city; if money ever was in need, he would go there to sell furs. Shuddering, he paused, chafed at his wrists, and then bent to scoop up some snow. Patting it into a small ball, he took a small bite out of it, smiled as it cooled his throat.

His smile died down when he heard the heavy beat of a horse galloping up behind him, the snow doing nothing to kill the noise. Turning, he gazed up the road before his eyes snapped wide in surprised anger. He pursed his lips, watched as the brown horse slowed to a trot, Red leaning to the side to see if it was Hansel.

"What are you doing here?" grumbled Hansel, fingering the edge of his shirt.

"What are you thinking, leaving me behind? I need to be there to make sure you and the Wolf don't kill each other!" Red turned, slowly slid of the horse. Snorting, the wooden horse glanced back at her, rolled its maple eyes.

Hansel eyed the horse before reaching out, "And you bring a rocking horse?"

The wooden horse glared at his hand before whickering, snapping out. Hansel jerked back, rescuing his hands from the dull ebony teeth, and hissed, "Bad horse! Bad, bad horse!"

Red petted the horse's side, glowering at him, "You have to be nice to it… And it doesn't like being called a rocking horse."

"But that's what it is!" complained Hansel before scrambling back as the horse pranced angrily towards him.

Red sighed, put her hand against her head, and muttered, "Just… get on the horse… Walking will take you all day, and Bo can only keep Peter for so long, you know."

"I'm not getting on that! It'll kill me!"

* * *

The chateau of De Lille was a tall, ugly thing, its spires falling apart, its walls mossy and crumbling. However, the tell-tale signs of a prison still spotted the walls. Guards in black armor patrolled the walls, and a deep, wide moat surrounded the walls. Unlike the small town where Red lived, no snow had fallen in the city, leaving it dry and dusty.

As they passed the drawbridge to the chateau, which was heavily guarded, Hansel murmured, "See the examples?"

Red had been trying not to look at the hanging corpses that hung on either side of the bridge. With a small sniffle, she nodded, keeping her eyes to the ground, "Yes."

"That's what will happen to _me_ if I get caught… You, I guess they'd just lecture and send on your way… But I don't want to risk that… You'll stay _out here_, waiting for me, okay?"

"But they have muskets too…" mumbled Red, turning her head as a guard kept a small child away from the bridge. The little boy pointed at the white ball, which had rolled past, and the guard glanced at it before taking a few steps, kicking it to the child, and shooed the little boy back to his frantic mother.

"I have a musket."

"But there's lot more of _them_."

"I'll manage, but, meanwhile, _you_ will stay out here."

Red stopped, crossed her arms, and glared up at him, "What if I don't want to?"

Hansel sighed, turned, and watched his little 'sister' glare at him for a few more minutes before threatening, "I will tie you down if I have to. It's too dangerous in there.""How do you know? You haven't even been in there!" As Hansel turned, began to walk, Red hurried to follow him.

"Morgan laid out the plan for me, remember? And I have a gun, don't forget that! And, even more than that, I have this!" Hansel dug his hands deep into his pocket, drew out a bright blue stone attached securely by a leather string. Poking at it, he smiled, "A demon stone."

Red stared at it, curious, "What's a 'demon stone'?"

Hansel smiled, held out his hand, "Give me your arm."

Slowly, hesitantly, Red let him take it. Smiling softly, Hansel pressed it against her skin, whispered, "Does that look normal to you?"

Where it touched, sharp, dark, lacy veins of black spread across her skin. With a squeak, Red jerked her arm away, watched the black spot fade, "What the heck?"

"You should see me when I actually put it on. I've used it before to kill quite a few witches, 'cause Morgan's scared that I'll die and she'll be left there in her little room for eternity. Yeah, like _I_ would die." Hansel rolled his eyes before pointing over his shoulder. "I had Morgan cast a fusion spell on the musket. Basically, I'll – Oh… Look… Is that the door she told us of?" Hansel stopped, pointed at the castle's wall.

Red's eyes followed the invisible line pointed by his finger, saw the little wooden door set up against the water. "I guess.""…Mm… Okay. Do you want to go buy yourself lunch or something while I go in and find that stupid Wolf?"

"I'm going with you! Don't you dare leave me behind!"

"But… You can't…" Hansel pursed his lips.

"I'm not going to just stay out here while you go shoot people! You're going to shoot the Wolf too, aren't you?"

"Suspicious, aren't you? Fine, you can come, but you stay _at_ the door. Understood? I don't want a stray bullet accidentally hitting you." Hansel motioned for her to follow him.

* * *

The moat water was incredibly dirty and disgusting, almost deterring Red from following Hansel. However, when Hansel waded in without as much as a complaint, she swallowed her hesitation, stripped of her favorite red cloak, and flinched as she took a first step into the scummy water.

Hansel swam swiftly across, seeming used to doing this sort of thing, with Red dragging behind him, one hand to his shirt. As soon as they hit the opposite bank, Hansel pulled himself up, sputtering, rushed forward, opened the door, and waved frantically at her, "Hurry, hurry!"

Red stalked in sullenly. Her dress, which had been a light whitish-pink, was now entirely see-through, revealing the corset and slip underneath. She crossed her hands in front of her chest. "So… What do we do now?"

She heard the door close behind her, heard Hansel snort some water from his nose with an angry mutter, and then turned to glanced at him, "Hansel?"

"What? Just let me get ready!" Hansel dragged his musket from its back strap, wiped some sickly yellow-green algae from it, and then hold it in his right hand as he rifled around in his pocket for the demon stone.

As he drew it out, Red sighed, "Great… Your freakish good-luck charm."

"If you would call black magic that. Nothing like that chalk I always tease her about…" Hansel dangled the stone before his face before sighing, latching a sly eye upon Red, and asking mischievously, "Want to see something very… helpful?"

The way he said it put Red on guard immediately. Taking a step back, she asked hesitantly, "What… are you talking about?"

"Want to see what this can do?" Hansel held up the stone, face suddenly eager.

"…I don't think I-"

"Good!" With a manic smile, Hansel wound the stone's leather string around his left wrist, reached under his shirt, dragged his hunting knife out, and then dropped the musket to expose his right hand's palm.

Realizing what he was about to do, Red shrieked, hurried forward, "Hansel! What are you-"

Hansel slashed at his wrist with the smile still on his face. Red shrieked as blood cast off onto her, leaped back. Dropping the knife, Hansel grabbed the stone, touched it to the cut.

Red grabbed his hand, staring at the wound in terrified horror, "What did you-"

"My musket, please, Gretel." Hansel's voice was calm, vacant.

Jerking up to see his face, Red was scared to see his eyes flickering between its usual pale blue to a dark gray. She hurriedly released his hand, dragged up his heavy musket, and flinched as he snatched it away.

Hansel pressed the musket's barrel against his wrist, smiling. "Gretel, are you watching?"

Red stared, shivering uncontrollably as she watched the dark threads of blood, tainted by the demon stone, wrap up and around the barrel and stock of the musket, bonding it to his arm. Taking a few unsteady steps back, she tripped, fell upon her back, and then scrambled back on her hands and heels.

Hansel glanced up, eyes curious, "What? Does this scare you?"

"It's eating your arm!"

"…It's not…" Hansel yanked the stone away, held up his right arm as he regarded it curiously. The stock and the beginning of the barrel had disappeared into his arm, which was now almost completely laced in black. The barrel and its sight were the only visible things left.

"Your hand's gone!"

"So? I have a musket now. Just have to make sure I keep this on." Hansel looped the stone around his neck, tucked it underneath his shirt, and then smiled. "So… we're going?"

"But… but…" Red was lost for words as Hansel strolled up besides her, offered her his left hand. The fingertips were still black from the stone.

Hansel grabbed her hand, hauled her up, and then asked, "You have a question?""Does… does it shoot?""Yes." Hansel nodded.

"…But what does it shoot?"

"Don't ask me. I've personally never cared. Morgan might be able to tell you, though…" Hansel scratched idly where skin turned to metal before sniffing, "I really want to shoot something now… Let's go."

Red gulped. She was planning never even to be within a mile of the witch's little cave, let alone ask her a question!

* * *

They met no resistance until they had mounted three floors. There, a patrolling guard fell prey to Hansel's musket. The shot alone was enough to alert the next five guards they met. However, out of the five, two were killed, and three fled with the screams of 'monster' and 'demon'.

Red and Hansel had proceeded through the grand hall, up the many stairs, and had finally made their way into the prison areas before the real resistance began.

Cowering behind an upended bench, shivering violently, Red flinched as the stone to the right of her head exploded, hit by a musket ball. In front of her refuge stood Hansel, pale with rage, rapidly loosing shots at the guards, who were kneeling for cover behind chairs and tables.

"Bloody twits! Stand out in the open, will you?" Hansel ducked behind the bench to slide down by Red. Cupping a hand over his stomach, where he had been shot, he pulled the stone from underneath his shirts, which was riddled with holes, and began to touch it to each of his wounds.

Red flinched as she watched him, "Must you do that?"

"Unless you want me to collapse because I'm bleeding, yes." Hansel glared down at the wounds, which had turned a disgusting black under the stone. "Now… let's see…" Reaching up with his left hand, he felt at his hair before smiling, "Still got time."

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh… nothing, but- Hmm…." Hansel suddenly noticed the fingernails of his left hand, which had grown long, sharp, and shiny black. "Remind me not to hug you."

"Are you joking? At a time like this?" Red glowered at him, curling up as the ear-drumming sound of musket fire slowed to a halt.

Grinning wildly, Hansel nodded, "Time and place for everything, I know, but this is _fun_!"

Red hissed, thumped him on the shoulder, "You're a harebrained freak! How could being shot at be fun? How could being hit be fun?" She pointed at his black wounds.

Suddenly, Hansel rolled out from behind the bench, and, with a sudden burst of speed, sprinted down the corridor. Before the officers could shoot, he was among them, eyes glinting madly, smile sharp and merciless.

Red shivered behind the bench, clapping her hands over her ears. The screams and gunshots still made their way through the skin and flesh however, and her mind filled with horrid pictures of mutilations and exploding heads, and she didn't put Hansel beneath doing those very things.

The sounds died down, and, seconds later, Red felt a small touch on her shoulder. Looking up slowly, she found her staring at Hansel, who was smiling, not knowing his unnaturally sharp teeth were doing nothing to calm her. "Red, we're here to rescue the Wolf, not sit down and wait."

"..." Licking her lips, Red slowly staggered up, avoiding touching Hansel. "Okay…"

Hansel nodded curtly, strode quickly down the corridor, oblivious to the dead men on either side of the hall.

Red edged down the middle of the hall, hands clenched into fists at her chest, her feet unsteady with fright. Once she was past the corpses, she broke into a run, came to Hansel's side, and clutched it, forgetting her fear of him, just wanting a reassuring touch.

Hansel smiled gently, traced a clawed finger through her hair, "Now, now, Gretel… We can't move that fast if you're clinging to me."

Slowly, Red let her arms slide off of his freakish arm and, with a sniffle, whispered, "You're scary."

"Don't worry. We'll be out soon and I can be rid of it." Hansel grinned.

"… Promise?"

"Yep. Now, let's find the Wolf. Lower levels, I think, is what Morgan said… Let's go." Hansel scurried for, muscles tensed and shivering with eagerness.

Red followed, morose and miserable.

* * *

There were not many cells in the lower levels, so searching them took less time than Red and Hansel thought. However, it took more time then they could afford, for, on the lower levels, the guards were steadily working their way up, clearing the floors before proceeding to the next level.

"Where the bloody heck is he?" hissed Hansel, peering into a cell before turning, squinting through the small peephole of the opposite cell door.

Red was in the next hall, standing on tiptoes, barely able to look through the little, barred squares that allowed them to see into the rooms. "Don't know, but are you sure he is down here?"

"He is! Morgan said so!" Hansel kicked at the wall angrily before pausing, feeling at his hair, and flinching when he felt hard and sharp growths behind his ears. He was running out of time; soon, he would have to take the stone off. "Gretel, we need to hurry!"

As she crept to the next door, Red muttered angrily under her breath, "Stop calling me 'Gretel'. I'm 'Red'. Call me 'Marie', if you're even happy with that, but not 'Gret-" She froze when she peeked through, saw a familiar form curled up in the corner. "Hansel, I've found him!"

Instantly, Hansel sped around the corner, eyes bright. Hastening to her side, he glanced into the room, smiled, "Sleepy fool. Could at least have been ready for us… Get away from the door." He pushed Red back before taking a step back himself, aiming the musket's barrel at the lock, and shooting at it.

The door shivered as the lock exploded, sending little pieces of metal tinkling to the floor. With a small hiss, Hansel kicked at the door, hurried in when it swung open, and nudged at the Wolf with the toe of his boot angrily, "Hey! Wake up! Wake up! We need to-"

Hansel's annoyed rant was interrupted as Red pushed him away angrily, "Don't kick him!"

"But-"

Red silenced him with a glare, turned to the sleeping Wolf, and knelt. Softly, she put her hands to his shoulders, gave a small, gentle squeeze, "Wolf… please wake up…"

Groaning, the Wolf curled up, "…No… No hurt… today…"

"We're not going to hurt you… It's Red… and Hansel."

Immediately, the Wolf's eyes flickered open, his lips raising in a snarl, "Where? Where is that idiot?"

Red sighed. So onlyHansel's name had wormed through his unconsciousness to spark him back to the world? "Please don't kill him."

The Wolf blinked before cocking his head, peering at her face, "Red? Huh? What are you doing-" His eyes settled upon Hansel, widened, before he sighed, "You've grown pointy."

Hansel bared his teeth, "Shut up. We have to leave."

The Wolf sat up, dirty fur raising up on end as he glowered at Hansel, "And you're still as annoying as ever." Glancing at Red, he smiled softly before frowning when he saw the necklace. His ears laid flat against his skull.

Red sighed, took the necklace from her neck, and held it out to the Wolf, "I guess this was what started all of-"

"We are in a prison, surrounded by guards with guns, and you two are exchanging jewelry!" Hissing, Hansel turned and stormed from the room.

The Wolf took the necklace and glared after Hansel as he latched it around his neck. "Too bad he grew pointy. Otherwise, I could eat him."

"Don't." Red stood, held out a hand to the Wolf. "And he's right. We better go."

The Wolf took her hand, staggered up, and then caught her up in a second. Holding her in his arms, he quickly scrambled from the cell, "Well then, when it comes from your mouth, I'm not so inclined to argue. So… what the heck is wrong with you?" He directed the last part to Hansel, who was waiting beside the door, face grim and angry.

"You guys are slow. For all we know, there can be guards making their way here, and, if you die, then Gretel gets sad, I get angry, and I drag your dead body back to Morgan in an attempt not to waste it."

"…Wait… What? Who's Morgan?"

"Nobody! A witch, that's all! Now, shut up, and let's move _towards_ the exit at least!" Hansel turned, stomped down the hall.

The Wolf's ears perked, "Hmm? A witch? Is that why you're all pointy?"

"Shut up and-" Hansel paused as he turned the corner before leaping back as a shot rang out. Spinning around, he sprinted towards them, eyes wide, "Back, back, back! There's guards!"

The Wolf, still with Red in his arms, whirled about, ran.

The winding and turning halls kept their backs safe from bullets, for the metal balls could not turn corners, but, four minutes after they had started running, they came into a large, long grand hall. In the center, a huge, black pit, over which a rickety, swinging rope bridge.

Swearing, Hansel turned, "I'll keep them. You guys go over the bridge and I'll come over once I know you two are safe on the other side."

The Wolf nodded, turned, and set Red down. "It'll be better if both of us have our balance for this one."

Red nodded, took a tentative step onto the first plank of the bridge. It creaked, a scary noise, but held. Suddenly, she remembered Morgan's interest in the pit, her warning, but shoved the thought away, took another step.

Behind them, Hansel placed himself squarely in the center of the hall, feeling the little horns that were still masked by his blonde hair. His face flashed with a sudden wave of fury as the first guard rounded the corner. Raising his arm, he shot, smiled maliciously as the man fell back, a hole in his throat.

Spurred on by the gunshot, Red hurried forward, standing on tiptoes on the wood, hoping that the little planks of wood wouldn't snap. Behind her, the Wolf steadied himself, splaying his legs so he wasn't resting all of his weight in the middle of the plank, and urged, "C'mon, Red… Keep going."

Red stepped across a small hole where a plank had been broken away, glanced up towards the opposite side of the bridge with a small smile. They were more than halfway across!

Her smile died down when she saw a guard hurry out of a side hall. Making his way to the start of the bridge, he glared across at them, his musket in his hands.

"…Wolf?"

"Yes?" The Wolf stepped forward, eyes down at his paws, and bumped into her.

Leaning back into his fur, Red whispered, "There's a guard…"

The Wolf glanced up, saw the guard, and then raised a lip to reveal sharp teeth in a snarl, "Well, keep going. He won't shoot you, and I can have my first meal in two days."

Red gulped, took another step forward hesitantly.

The guard drew away from the other side of the bridge, watched them for a few seconds, and then drew his short, decorative sword.

Red stopped again, shivering, "He has a sword."

The Wolf nudged her forward, "Behind us, muskets. In front, swords. Which is better? Just keep going, Red."

Sniffling, Red stepped forward again.

The guard raised his sword, and, instantly, Red were in the arms of the Wolf. Racing forward, furious, the Wolf hissed, "Don't you da-"

The guard cut down upon the ropes that held the bridge. The Wolf suddenly found no planks and rope under his rear paws and curled up around Red as they began to plummet. Red clutched at him, her fingers digging into his fur, as she screamed.

Hansel turned, his eyes glowing with rage. However, when he saw the bridge no longer there, the screams that rose from the darkness of the pit, he froze for a moment before sprinting forward. He reached the edge of the pit and, without a second thought, vaulted out into the darkness.


	40. The Nightmare Room

The fall itself was much shorter than Red thought, but it still jolted her as she and the Wolf splashed down into dank water. For a few moments, they floated underwater, the Wolf dazed, Red clutched in his claws, before he jolted back to action, bursting up to the surface with a ragged gasp. Shivering, Red clutched to him as he let go of her to tread water.

"Where the heck is this?" the Wolf asked, glancing around. His eyes had not adjusted to the darkness yet, so he was as blind as Red was.

A splash came from their right, followed a small silence as little, rippling waves splashed against the Wolf's shoulders. Seconds later, Hansel's sputtering voice rasped, "Gretel?"

"Hansel! We're over here."

"Don't worry, I see you…" Small splashes sounded, the noise of one swimming, before a hand crept up onto Red's shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"Yes."

"…Wolf, there's a little bank over there. We can go there, unless you want to drown."

"Fine." The Wolf found Red's side with his hands, trying to find Hansel.

"You can't see, can you?"

"If you hadn't noticed, it's pitch-black."

Snorting, Hansel muttered, "Fine… Swim towards me."

The Wolf nodded, only to feel a light touch on his back. Ears swiveling, he glanced over his shoulder, "How'd you get back there?"

"I'm right here." Hansel reached over Red, tapped the Wolf's chest.

"Then-"

Hansel grabbed a fistful of fur, yanked his hand towards him. Yelping, the Wolf snarled, "Let go!"

"Then follow me!"

Grumpily, forgetting the touch he had felt in the water, the Wolf swam after him. Red lay limply under one of his arms, her heart still beating erratically, still frightened by the fall.

After a few moments of swimming, the Wolf's forepaw found purchase upon ground, and he pulled himself up before depositing Red upon the sand, snorting water from his nose, and calling, "Hansel?"

A splash came from behind him, and Hansel's voice wormed its way through the air, "Hey, Wolf…?"

"Yes."

"What would you say happened to a dead man floating in the water?"

"Huh?" The Wolf cocked his head as Red stiffened, suddenly feeling nauseous.

"…There's a dead man in the water."

The Wolf rolled his eyes, "Obvious: they threw him in and he drowned." He fumbled around, found Red's arm, and then clung to it as he sat down. After a few moments of settling down to a comfortable position, he asked pleasantly, "Is it fresh?"

Hansel gazed at the shore, narrowing his eyes. The darkness was like daytime to him now, thanks to the black magic of the demon stone, but he would be needing to take it off soon, or he'd start to slowly lose his judgment of right and wrong, slowly become more and more aggressive, more and more dangerous. "And if it is?"

"… I'm hungry." The Wolf said no more than that.

Besides the Wolf, Red jerked, staring up to her right where she thought the Wolf's head was, "You're going to eat a dead man?"

"Well, just making due with what we're given." The Wolf cocked his head, ears swiveling from side before turning back to the direction of Hansel. "So, Hansel?"

Hansel grunted, turned, took hold of the dead man's arm, and lugged it over to the bank. Pushing it up onto the sand, he muttered, "There you are."

The Wolf felt around blindly, found the wet and cold hand of the dead man, and licked his lips, "What condition is he in?"

"Hmm?"

"Is he rotting already?"

"No… Maybe died yesterday or sometime this morning. Not even bloated."

Red grimaced. Were they really having this conversation?

The Wolf dragged the man towards him, a low eager hum worming out of his throat. "Oh, yummy… First meal in two days." He bent his head, sniffed at the man, and then grimaced, "But I can't say it smells or feels rather appetizing."

Hansel glowered at him, "And this is coming from the person who likes eating _everything_?"

"…Hey, I'm not complaining." The Wolf opened his mouth, took the man's head in, and began to slowly swallow.

Red stiffened beside him, becoming nauseous as he let loose a long, ecstatic groan around his mouthful. Rolling away from him, she stood, took a small step forward, and grimaced when she heard a little splash, her foot growing cold with water. She turned away from the water, glanced about, and then complained, "I can't see a thing! There should be some light, shouldn't there be?"

"…Yes…" Hansel pulled himself onto the sand, his musket arm almost hitting the Wolf's foot as he did so. Crawling up besides Red, he reached up, grabbed her arm, and pulled her down to sit beside him. Softly, he whispered, "And the only reason why that is is because we are stuck in black magic?"

"What?" Red stared at where she thought his face was, eyes growing wide and fearful.

"Nothing much. We'll get out, don't worry. If I were like you right now, I wouldn't be able to see a thing either, but the stone absorbs magic. It's not affecting me. To me, it's bright as daytime."

"Lucky you." grumbled Red.

"And I think I know how to get out of here."

"What?"

"Well, you see, traps like this always give you a chance to get out. Like a dark labyrinth will give you a sphinx to either release you or strangle you. Understand?"

"But… how are we going to get out?"

"Easy. Face whatever's in the mirror." Hansel found her hand, pulled her up, and then called, "Wolf? You nearly done there, you fat glutton?"

The Wolf grumbled, unable to say anything due to his full throat.

"Well, hurry up. We've got this dark hole to escape."

Within the next five minutes, the Wolf finished his swallowing, laid back, and grunted softly, "Just… wait… There's digestion to be done. We can escape later." He caressed his bloated stomach gently, delighting in the feeling of being satisfactorily filled for the first time in two days.

"We don't have enough time till 'later'!" hissed Hansel.

"Fine. Wake me up when you figure out how to escape…" Laying down, the Wolf curled up, his tail wagging. "Other than that, I have no energy, and I don't want to collapse from exhaustion."

"Fine! I'll look in the mirror first!" growled Hansel bitterly.

The Wolf's ears twitched before he slowly glanced up with a sigh, "There's a _mirror_? Really, Hansel... You've become a pointy, inedible monster, and you've somehow landed us in a hole just saturated in evil –I can smell it, you know- and now you're talking about mirrors? Why do I think it will be a mirror that will kill us all?"

"Because you're an ignorant dunce. That's always how stories go!"

"We're not in a story. This is real life. Witches and magic can kill you here too, you know."

"I know that! But you don't go forward unless you try, which is especially true for down here…" Hansel glanced upwards, where the lip of the pit should have been. Instead, there was only darkness. "So, being your own little, unenergetic self, should we just stay down here until we starve to death? Oh, sorry, I forgot: we have a _carnivore_ in our midst who would just love to swallow us all down and just sleep, wouldn't he?"

Rolling his eyes, forgetting that Hansel could see him, the Wolf stood with a rough growl, "The only one that I will be eating is you, Hansel. That is, as soon as you stop being so pointy and… stop having a musket fixed upon your arm. If I ate you right now, I'd have to get staples again, wouldn't I?"

"You just ate! And you'd be needing more than a new stomach if you ate me!"

"Okay, okay…" The Wolf itched at his belly as he stumbled towards Hansel's voice.

"…So… You'll look in the mirror first?"

"Me?"

"Well…"

Red rolled her eyes and, hoping to avoid an argument, stepped forward, "I'll look in it first… Where is it, Hansel?"

Alarmed, Hansel grabbed her back with his left hand, but quickly let go when Red yelped. Fidgeting, he whispered, "But we don't know what it does yet…"

"It'll show her reflection." Commented the Wolf.

Hansel glared at him, "So why don't you go look at your reflection first?"

"Nah… Red offered. Let her go first."

Nodding, Red felt for Hansel's hand, found it, and, avoiding the sharp claws at the tips of his fingers, asked, "So, where is it?"

Slowly, Hansel took her shoulder, maneuvered her around, and then nudged her forward slowly. "Straight ahead."

Red strode forward, feeling a little thrill inside of her. She was going before two brave men because they were too scared! Just the thought banished the fear from her mind. It was just a mirror; what bad could it do?

She bumped into the smooth surface of the mirror, and, instantly, the darkness around them faded to a brilliant light, illuminating the three prisoners and the mirror that would allow them to escape their prison.

* * *

The mirror was large, polished, and gold-gilded, every inch of what a noble or a king would own. The frame was intricately carved into the curling forms of lions, each one with their teeth bared in their frozen being.

As Red blinked the bright light spots out of her eyes, Hansel trembling behind her with his hand clapped over his eyes, the Wolf sniffed, "That's it? Some fancy mirror? No scary skeleton holding it up, Hansel?"

His eyes covered by his clawed hand, Hansel rasped, "I haven't seen it yet. The light just was… sudden… Let me get adjusted…"

"Adjusted?"

Slowly pulling his hand from his face, Hansel squinted at the mirror before shrugging, "It wasn't what I was expecting in this hole."

Red leaned forward, inspecting her dirty face. "Well, it's a nice mirror, but how is it going to let us out?"

"Well, it lit up the place…" the Wolf murmured, his eyes shifting to settle upon Hansel's budding horns. "Hansel? What are you supposed to be? A deer?"

"Shut up!"

"Both of you be quiet." Hissed Red before turning back to the mirror. She regarded it before freezing as the surface dulled, her reflection disappearing.

Hansel saw her stiffen, hurriedly stepped forward, "What is it?"

Even though he was right behind her, Red saw him not in the polished glass, only her own blurred reflection. Slowly, even that faded away. "My reflection went away."

"Told you it was a magic mirror!" Hansel smirked at the Wolf, who glowered back at him.

"Wait, wait! Something's coming on!" Red bent, squinted closely at the word that was forming on the glass. "I… Inno… Innocentia? What's that?" She poked at the _Innocentia_ that the mirror reflected back at her.

Immediately, Hansel muttered, "Innocence."

"What's that?" The Wolf glanced at him, eyes narrowed.

"Innocentia is innocence. Morgan uses that language in her spells. I have to know it so I can make sure she's not cursing me." Slowly, Hansel glanced down at his ragged, torn shirt before whispering, "Something's coming."

Red turned, about to ask 'What are you talking about?', before freezing, staring behind the Wolf and Hansel. The water twisted up, forming definite solid shapes. In only a few seconds, a small forest lay before them, filtered, golden sunshine streaming down through the leaves.

Red's insides chilled as a girl, a red cape fluttering behind her as she cradled a wicker basket in her arms, skipped down the forest path. It was her, nearly two years before.

The Wolf cocked his head before smiling widely, "I remember this…"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Red saw a flicker of movement at the edge of her vision, turned to see a gray shadow slinking through the trees. The girl on the path would not have been able to see it, due to the trees and bushes blocking her view. However, Red could see the old Wolf, eyes dark with hunger, prowling to intercept the happy girl.

Suddenly, the Wolf stood in the center of the path, waiting for the girl to round the corner. She did, froze when she saw him, and then blushed, waiting for him to move. The two stood there for a few moments, waiting for the other to act, before the girl murmured, "Excuse me, but… could I pass?"

The Wolf from the past bared his sharp teeth in a forced smile, "First, may I ask where you are going to, small one?"

Red couldn't help but giggle as her past self glared up at the Wolf, "I'm not small."

"Oh, I'm sorry." The smile disappeared from the Wolf's face before he asked again, "But where are you going?""I shouldn't talk to strangers.""I'm no stranger."

"Well, _I_ don't know you. Doesn't that-"

"I promise, I am a friend." The Wolf took a hungry step forward, eyes glittering. "Just tell me where you are heading. I may be able to speed you upon your way. I wouldn't want you to be caught in the forest after sunset. That is the time that there are _monsters_ on the prowl."

That did the trick. Instantly, the girl said hurriedly, "I am on my way to my grandmother's house. She lives in there." She pointed past the Wolf, the thin, pale finger directed at the forest.

Instantly, the past Wolf's eyes grew greedy, "Really?" By the expression on his face, Red could tell he knew exactly where the little girl meant.

The girl nodded hesitantly.

"Well, then… I think I know where that is…" The Wolf stepped off to the side of the path, gave a small, quick, and almost approving nod, "Continue on this path and take the left path. Not only is it quicker, but it's much prettier… Flowers and such."

The girl gazed up at him before smiling brightly, "Thank you."

Red was startled as the scene suddenly disintegrated, water splashing down in a torrent around them.

The Wolf sighed, "And it doesn't show the rest?"

Glaring at him, Hansel pointed his musket arm beyond the Wolf, "There."

Red and the Wolf glanced over to see the girl skipping across the water, a bouquet of daisies and dandelions in her hand. As they watched, the water slowly twisted to accommodate the apparition, creating a new scene.

Red instantly paled when she recognized her grandmother's house, the chimney lazily puffing smoke as usual, the wooden slats upon the roof sprouting more vegetation than the dirt around the house.

The girl stopped skipping, clapped her hands with glee, and hurried to the door. Grabbing the knocker, she tapped the metal handle against the wood as she called happily, "Grandma? Are you there? Mom sent me with-"

Even though it was too far away to possibly hear, Red could pinpoint the whispering call, "Come in, dear one."

The girl pulled the door open, scrambled in like the eager, willing-to-please child that she had been. Once again, the scene melted away, only to be replaced by another.

The inside of Red's grandmother's house was warmly furnished, little crocheting experiments laying about everywhere. In the middle of the wall of the first room was a small stove, a fire crackling within, spreading warmth and good cheer with its laughter. On the wooden table sat many mismatched vases of flowers, herbs, and spices.

The past Red set down her basket between a vase of rosemary and a pot of roses before tiptoeing to the door of the next room, peering in, "Grandma?"

Red could see the lump on the bed, sighed. How had she _not_ been able to tell that it had been the Wolf? Even the shape of the lumps weren't right.

Bouncing to the side of the bed, the girl took the edge of the cover, pulled at it, "Grandma! C'mon! Wake up! I brought cake!"

The Wolf coughed, edged over to Red as the girl continued her efforts to wake up 'grandma'. "You know, I am sorry that we have to watch this again."

"It's nothing." Red watched herself intently. "It's just I feel stupid now. I should have known you weren't my grandma?"

"But-"

"Shh!" Red motioned for him to be quiet as the past Wolf's face poked up above the covers. He had dusted it white with face powder and had pulled an old-fashioned wimple over his head and down over his eyes, but they did nothing to cover his gray ears or his black nose.

The girl froze, staring at the Wolf in awe, and then squeaked, "Grandma!"

Uncomfortable, the past Wolf pulled the comforter to cover his snout, "Yes, dearest?"

"Your ears! They're so…" The Red from two years past blushed before whispering, "They're _huge_."

The Wolf didn't seem to notice the little moving lump under the covers that betrayed his wagging tail as he whispered, "They're there so I can hear your beautiful voice, my dear child. Sometimes, it is the only thing that brings sunshine to a gray day." He reached up, fingered his right ear. Inadvertently, he pushed up the wimple, revealing the gray eyes.

The girl blinked before smiling nervously, "And your eyes? They're different…"

"I could not see you with my old pair, so I had to make due with these ones. They're made of glass, you know." The Wolf chuckled under his breath, his hands gripping the top of the covers.

The girl let her eyes slide down to his hands. "Um… Grandmother?"

"…Yes?"

"Your hands are rather… furry… and big…"

"New gloves. Do you like them?" The Wolf held his paws up, pretending to admire them.

For a few seconds, the girl shifted from side to side, uncomfortable. Finally, she whispered, "And… your mouth? It's a sharp mouth now…"

Suddenly, the Wolf flashed out a large paw, grabbed Red's arm, and pulled her roughly atop the bed. Rolling so he straddled her, he pulled off the wimple, threw it to the side, and smirked, "It's so I can eat you, _dear one_."The past Red struggled, screaming, as the Wolf lowered his drooling jaws.

* * *

Red watched sullenly as the past Wolf devoured the her from two years ago. To her right, the Wolf lay on the sand, rubbing his belly, eyes latched upon his old self with a sad smile upon his face. Hansel, who was pale with rage, shuddered as he regarded the scene.

As soon as the Wolf was done swallowing her down, the landscape faded, and the water slowly spiraled down into its stagnant pool.

The Wolf glanced up at Red, "Well, that was awkward… So, should I go next? Or-"

Turning, Hansel hissed, "Shut up! I have half the mind to shoot you!"

The Wolf snapped his jaws shut, glowered at Hansel.

Staggering up, Hansel stormed to the mirror. His steps were pained, as if he were stepping on nails.

Red watched him with alarm, "Are you okay?"

"No, 'cause I'm growing claws!" Hansel placed himself in front of the mirror, glared at it furiously. After a few moments, he cocked his head, his anger disappearing, and muttering, "Adflictatio. Pain. What has pain have to do with me?"

Glancing at the lake as the water began to twist up, the Wolf sniffed, "I guess we're going to find out."

Hansel turned, watched the water silently.

This time, the water slowly firmed to the somewhat familiar cabin of Hansel's. However, unlike its current disrepair, the past cabin was upright, clean, and strong, the very definition of a sturdy wood cabin.

Hansel appeared at the door, his musket over his shoulder. His face was twisted up in a large smile, was strangely rid of the lines of hate and anger. Turning, he called, "Gretel, I'll be back by supper, okay?"

A few seconds later, a blonde head poked out from behind the partially closed door. Smiling, Gretel gave a quick nod, "Hope you do well at the contest… and I really hope you beat that Valaise boy."

Hansel chuckled, reached back, and patted his little sister on the head, "I will, Gretel, don't worry, and I'll even bring back a pretty silver coin for you, okay?"

Happy, Gretel reached out, hugged her brother, "So _win_, okay?"

Hansel kissed the blonde hair and nodded, "I will, don't worry."

Suddenly, the picture vanished, and the water began raining down once more. Blinking, Red glanced back at Hansel, was surprised to see him staring at the water with wistful eyes.

"No… Please… I want to see Gretel…" Hansel stepped forward, eyes tearing.

The water stopped falling, slowly twirled as they found their new places, and began to solidify. When it had fully formed, it showed Hansel, strolling down a dirt path, flipping a gold coin in his fingers as he whistled cheerfully. Behind him trotted a small boy, perhaps five or six, whose eyes were soaked with awe.

"Mr. Hansel! That was so amazing! You shot the turkey from a thousand feet!"

Hansel stopped, turned, and shook his head with a chuckled, "Only a hundred."

"But still!" The boy gazed up at Hansel as if he were some unworthy ant before a king.

Ruffling the boy's hair, Hansel whispered, "If you think that's something, I'll teach you how to shoot, how's that? You'll be able to shoot from a hundred feet in no time."

"Really?" Thrilled, the boy clapped his hands together, face reddening with excitement.

Squatting, Hansel put a finger to his lips, "But you can't tell your mama, okay? Just your little secret and mine, understand?"

"But why?"

"Your mama would hit me over the head with her rolling pin!"

The boy laughed, "She would! She would!"

Snorting a chuckle, Hansel stood, tapped the boy on the head, "Now go home and eat dinner, or else she'll be hitting _you_ over the head!"

Giggling, the boy spun, scurried down the road.

Shaking his head in happy disbelief, Hansel turned, started back down the road.

When the past Hansel arrived at the cabin, the real Hansel found Red's shoulder with his left hand, pulled her close, and moaned, "No… Please… Don't…"

Red shivered. Something bad was going to happen, wasn't it?

The past Hansel waltzed up to his front door, creaked it open, and cooed through the opening, "Gretel, I've your coin. Want to see it? And guess what? It's _gold_! I won first place!"

When no answer came, he opened the door further, stepped in. "Gretel?"

There was no one in the cabin. Sighing, Hansel shut the door behind him, muttered, "Well… Off to the store she goes. Could have used this…" He set the coin on the table, slumped down into a chair, and let his musket fall unceremoniously to his feet.

* * *

Red wasn't sure how many hours had passed in the past world, but when the sun had dipped down to the red-purple of sunset, the past Hansel grumpily wrapped himself up in his overcoat, stormed from the cabin, and started for town, muttering under his breath.

"Gretel! How many times have I told you? Leave a not if you're going to go to your friend's house! Fie! Always leave a note if you're going anywhere! You get lost everywhere!" The agitated man paused, wiped a hand back through his brilliant blonde hair, and then forged on. "I don't like worrying! Not one bit! Always leave a note!"

Red was pressed against Hansel's chest, could feel its raspy breaths. Glancing back, she saw miserable eyes, grieving eyes, eyes that could have sent one to his grave.

The past Hansel stopped once more, held up a hand, and made his voice high-pitched as he imitated his sister. "Oh look! I'm going to my friend's house! The _least I can do_ is leave a note." He mimed penning a note in midair before growling, continuing back down the path as he kicked at the small rocks that littered the way.

Suddenly, the scene wrenched away, and Hansel gave a small sob into Red's shoulder as a new place rose from the water: the town, its lamps flickering in a chilling wind, the walls wet from the sprinkling rain. The sky was starless, the moon hidden behind a dark cloud.

Then, from around the far corner of the picture ran Hansel, eyes wide in panic, Gretel clasped in his arms, wrapped tightly in a blanket. Sprinting to the house in the center of the three spectator's vision, he kicked at the door violently.

"Doctor! Doctor! Wake up!" The past Hansel couldn't manage any more, for he slumped against the wood, sobbing miserably.

After a few moments, the door opened, revealing a doctor, dressed in a long shirt and a night cap. Startled as Hansel fell in, stumbling, he hissed, "What are you doing, Hansel? What is-"

"G-Gretel…" sobbed Hansel, clutching his little sister close to his chest, eyes red and teary. "She's sick! Please… Please help her…"

The doctor's look of anger disappeared. Hurriedly, he motioned, "Upstairs. There's a bed."Hansel nodded, scrambled to the stairs, and vanished up them.

The rainy town disappeared to a warm, dark room. In the corner, Hansel fidgeted nervously as he watched the doctor examine Gretel.

Sighing as he regarded the feverish girl, the doctor straightened, pulled the covers up over his patient, and then turned to motion to Hansel. Instantly, Hansel stood before him, twitching. "How is she? What is it? Will she get better? What is wrong with my-"

The doctor shushed him, and Hansel fell silent sullenly. Slowly walking away from the bed, pulling Hansel with him, the doctor whispered, "When did she get sick?"'

"I don't know. I went to the shooting contest at Smolley's, and I went back to my house, and she wasn't there. I thought she went to buy food or go to a friend's house, but… she didn't come home, and it was almost night, so I went looking… And… and…" Hansel's voice cracked.

Red jumped as Hansel whispered hoarsely into her ear, "She was laying in the road."

"S-she was laying in the road… And she was sick… and… and… Please tell me she's going to be okay!" The past Hansel clutched at the doctor's nightshirt, eyes wild with worry.

Sighing, the doctor put a hand on Hansel's shoulder, muttered, "I'm sorry to say this, but your sister won't last till morning. She has the-"

With a small, choked cry, Hansel pushed the doctor away, stared at him as if he were a monster, "No! No!" He rushed to the bed, knelt on it, and bent to hug his little sister as he sobbed, "She can't! She'll live! She can't die!"

The doctor regarded him sadly, "I can't do anything against the fever. You should just be happy you didn't catch it, or you would be dying too."

"Rather me than her!" Hansel clutched at Gretel, his red face streaked with tears, his nose dribbling.

In his arms, Gretel moaned, "Hansel… You're being loud…"

Hansel laughed bitterly through his tears, "Gretel, I'll be quiet if you get better, okay? Gretel? Please? Say 'yes'. Please, say 'yes'."

Gretel put her head against his chest, whispered, "Why are you crying?"

"They lie to me, Gretel… Please, say 'yes'. You're going to get better." Hansel kissed her forehead.

"Yes, brother…." Putting her head against his arm, Gretel closed her eyes, snuggled down against him.

Hansel shook her awake, wide-eyed with fear, "No! Don't go to sleep!"

"But… I'm so tired…" Gretel's eyelids fluttered.

"Stay awake! Please!"

Slowly, Gretel's eyes slid shut, and real Hansel gave a small wretched sob as he watched his past self shake at her shoulders, to no avail.

"Gretel! No! Wake up! Wake up!" Hansel clutched his sister's body to him, bawling. "You can't die! You can't!"

The doctor slowly backed out of the room, leaving the man to his grief, and leaving the picture to fade away.

* * *

For the next fifteen minutes, Red and the Wolf sat in uncomfortable silence as Hansel cried loudly, hugging Red to his chest, clutching at her, putting his streaming face into her shoulders and making it wet with tears and snot. Finally, the Wolf huffed and stood, "Dear Lord, he's just gone and broken down, hasn't he?"

Red glared at him before reaching up and patting Hansel's blonde hair, avoiding the horns that sprouted from behind his ear. "It's okay, Hansel… It's okay…"

Hansel sniffled into her shoulder, ragged gasps jerking their way from his body, "Gretel… You said you would get better… How could you leave me…?"

Red sighed, struggled to come up with an excuse that would put him at rest, "Um… I had to… It was-"

Suddenly, the Wolf stood over them. Grabbing Hansel by the horns, the Wolf hauled him up, held him there, and snarled, "She was testing you, you stupid fool! It was a test, and, heavens, you've done great this far, but look at you! You're failing!"

Hansel stared helplessly up at the Wolf, body limp, eyes teary, "…What…?"

"Look at you! Crying, whining, just like a small child! Do you think… _Gretel_ would want a brother like that?" The Wolf gave him a violent shake, leering.

Dazed, Hansel shook his head sluggishly.

"So pull yourself together and stop it! It's getting on my nerves, you annoying arse!" The Wolf dropped him, turned, and then mouthed at Red, "You _owe _me."

Red nodded, melting with relief as she watched Hansel slowly recover from his sadness.

"Fine. Now it's your turn to watch my wretched memory… If I'm right, I know exactly which one it will play, and I'll be in the same state as Hansel by the end if I don't try. So… Here it goes." Taking a deep breath, the Wolf stepped in front of the mirror. A few moments passed before he asked, "Anyone know what 'Nex Necis' means?"

Hansel, struggling to restrain his sadness, croaked, "Death. A violent death."

The Wolf sighed, "… Then let us watch… I know what it'll show…" He turned, watched the water raise in small threads sadly.

The new scene was placed in the forest, black-trunked trees all around, red and orange leaves scattered on the ground. The Wolf appeared, carrying a small fistful of flowers and the familiar wolf toy that Red had fixed, his smile pained but happy. The wound on his stomach, just recently sewn shut, was livid, red, and painful-looking.

Stopping, he took a few breaths, scratched at his stomach softly, and flinched as one of his claws touched the staple. He sighed before glancing back up, smiling, and hurrying forward.

The picture changed quickly. Now, the Wolf stood before his home, heading for the door. Stopping at the door, he quickly brushed his fur down with a paw, arranged the daisies in his hand so they appeared to be in some kind of thoughtful order, and then twisted a hand at the knob. He stepped in, called softly, "Deanna… Peter… I'm home…"

Red stared at the past Wolf calling for his family when she felt a warm presence settle down besides her. Glancing over, she saw the Wolf, quiet, grim, and thoughtful. She turned her head back to the past Wolf.

"Peter…? You here? I got a new toy for you… Do you want it? You have to give your papa a hug…" The Wolf's voice was hoarse but warm. He stepped forward, stopped, and then crept to a pair of the curtains that Red remembered had covered empty wall. Pouncing upon it, he tugged it aside, leaned forward to see if there was no blonde pup hiding behind, and then sighed.

The Wolf commented, "He always would hide behind those, jump out at me… That's why I put them up..." A fond smile snuck upon his lips.

Red continued to watch, ignoring the hand that took hers for reassurance.

The past Wolf glanced about before calling, "Deanna? Peter? Are you here? Marquis? Jhonen?" When no answer came, he grumbled, made his way to the kitchen, and placed the flowers and the toy upon the table with little care. Finding a small bucket of water, he drained half of it away, licked his lips, and then glanced back to regard the toy he had brought for Peter.

With a shrug, he wandered over, picked it up, and left the kitchen. Silently, he ambled down the hall to the door that Red recognized as the one to the room where the Wolf had locked her the first two days of her captivity. He knocked gently, asked, "Peter? You in there?"

Nothing.

Huffing, the Wolf took the knob in his paw, twisted at it, and then grew confused when he found it locket. He pursed his lips, turned, and hurried back to the kitchen, where he found his key ring, took the right key from it, and strode back to the door. Fitting the key in the lock, he turned it, smiled when he heard it unclick, and then opened it. It thumped against something, stopping, before the Wolf forced the gap wider with a grimace.

They were suddenly looking from inside the room out at the Wolf. Watching as he stepped in, Red noticed the bright blot of fur laying behind the door, still. The Wolf glanced around, ears swiveling, and then threw the toy to the little blue bed in the corner. He missed, however, and the Wolf sighed as he walked over to pick it up. Setting it on the bed so it faced the door, intended to be a surprise for Peter when he came in through the door, the Wolf turned back to the door, froze when he saw Peter on the floor.

Instantly, he was kneeling besides his son, eyes worried. Dragging him up into his arms, he shook him gently, "Peter? Peter?"

A small, cracked moan came from Peter, and the Wolf's fur stood on end before he stood, rushed back to the kitchen. Setting Peter on the kitchen table, he hurriedly found some water from a half-empty bucket, transferred it to a glass, and hurried back to Peter. As he helped Peter sit up, who seemed to be still in some of dazed place in between awake and unconscious, the Wolf whispered, "Peter, it's papa… Peter…" He tipped the cup to touch it to Peter's lips.

Peter drank, probably not even realizing that was what he was doing. However, after a few moments, he began to choke, sputtering up water all over himself. The Wolf hastily lowered the cup, pulled Peter to his chest, and caressed him softly, "Peter… Please… Say something…"

Peter curled towards his father's side, his hand curling weakly into the fur of his father's stomach. The Wolf flinched as Peter brushed against the wound, but retained his yelp and let it only come out as a strained coo, "Peter..."

"Papa…" rasped Peter, his tail wagging weakly. His eyes flickered open, dull and glazed, and he let them rove about before whispering, "Papa? Where are you?"

The Wolf stared down at Peter before silently waving a hand in front of Peter's face. When his son did not respond, the Wolf's face grew hard, and he hugged Peter to his chest lovingly as he muttered, "Where is your mother?"

"…Mama told me… that an angel would come… I just had to be… alone…" Peter snuffled happily into his papa's fur, not seeming to worry about his lost eyesight; either that, or not comprehending that he had lost the use of his eyes.

"How long have you been in there?" The Wolf bent his head, kissed the tip of Peter's ear. Red could see, however, that his eyes were hard, full of sudden hate and fury.

Peter curled up on his father's lap, whimpering weakly as his tail twisted uncomfortably under him, "…Mama said I had to wait… I want mama… Where's mama…? Mama?" He rested his head against the Wolf's stomach, sniffling sadly, "I want Mama…"

Softly, the Wolf put his arms around his son, creating a sort of cradle. Peter instantly calmed, and, as his son snuggled against his fur, the Wolf whispered, "Don't worry, Peter… Just go to sleep and I'll find her…"

"Thank you, Papa… You're… nice and… warm…" Peter hugged the Wolf's arm happily, fell instantly to sleep.

The Wolf sat there for a few minutes, gazing down at his son with a glint of confused anger in his eyes, before slowly transferring Peter to the table, standing, and storming from the room.

The scene melted away, now to replaced by another.

A new wolf, one that Red had never seen before, stood by the river's edge, slowly cupping water to her face as she drank. She had Peter's blondish hair, but also possessed streaks of a darker brown-gray that striped her back like a tiger's. She stood, brushing her wet fur back with a small sniff, and then froze before turning. A small, weary grin crossed her features. "Oh… Icarus, is that you?"

As the past Wolf appeared from his hiding place in the bushes, Red glanced at the Wolf, startled, "Is that your name?"

"Yes, and if I ever hear you call me it, I will punch you." The Wolf crossed his arms angrily.

The past Wolf stepped from the shadows, glowering at his wife, "… Deanna… What happened?"

"Nothing did." Deanna turned, gazing at the water. Red caught the hint of secrecy in her voice.

"You tried to kill Peter! That is _something_!" The Wolf stiffened, fur standing on end, teeth bared in snarl.

With a snort, Deanna glared at him, "He was a brat without you around. Always was."

Hissing, the Wolf leapt for her, claws outstretched and eyes furious, but the smaller female wolf slipped away.

"Come now, Icarus… We don't need Peter… We can go somewhere else… Away from this horrible place… Wait till you heal…"

"He is my _son_!" growled the Wolf.

"And I am your wife!" hissed his mate back at him.

"And by being so, you have a duty to be Peter's mother! Not to lock him in his room and leave him there for God knows how long!" The Wolf motioned furiously at his wife.

Deanna stared at the Wolf before scowling, "You're just as bad as Peter is, Icarus. When did this happen? After the _months_ you left me to take care of him alone?"

"You know I had to because of this!" The Wolf pointed at his stomach.

"And that is your own fault! You left me alone, Icarus! I never felt so wronged in my life!"

"I have a cut in my stomach, excuse me for saying, but how is that my fault? I didn't leave you because I wanted to!"

"But you did! And Peter!" Deanna rolled her eyes, put her hands to her head, and whispered, "Nag, nag, nag! 'Where's Papa?', 'Where's Marquis and Jhonen?', 'I want Papa!'… All he ever asks. Never once was it 'mother'!"

"And what about now? He wants you! He has no idea you tried to kill him!"

"I don't want to see him. I don't want to even _think_ about him." Deanna turned away from the Wolf.

Instantly, the Wolf grabbed her from behind, dragged her to him, and held her as she struggled. Fur raising in anger, he locked both arms around her, one across her neck, another across her chest, and hissed angrily, "Give me back my ring."

Deanna flailed in the Wolf's arms, to no avail. Finally, she snarled, "Take it, you uncaring jerk! I hope you die, and Peter along with you!"

The Wolf caught her hand, ripped the small golden band from it, and then grabbed Deanna's ears and pulled them harshly back. Deanna's curses turned to shrieks, and she scratched at his arms uselessly as pain assailed her tender ears.

"I took care of you for the past twenty years, and this is how you repay me? Trying to kill my son? Raining curses and ill-will down upon our heads?" The Wolf bit her ear, shredding it to pieces with a snap of his jaws.

Deanna slumped in his arms, sobbing, "No, please… You go on your way, I go mine. Don't kill me… Please…"

Without a glint of mercy in his eyes, the past Wolf grabbed Deanna's head, twisted it viciously to the side. The sound of snapping bones caused Red to flinch, and she instantly felt the Wolf's hand upon her shoulder, warm, gentle, reassuring. Deanna fell limp against the Wolf, dead.

"Don't worry. I don't do horrible things to her afterwards." The Wolf muttered when he saw Red's eyes widen with horror, trying to put a joking tone to it. He failed miserably.

The past Wolf dropped his wife's corpse, stared down at it, and then started to cry, dropping to his knees to grovel by his mate's body. Looking tortured doing so, he reached up to her neck, yanked the familiar necklace from the still and broken neck, and cupped it in his hands, sobbing over it.

Red felt sickened. She had been wearing that same necklace only an hour or two before!

The picture dissipated, and water fell around them once more, pit-pattering against the surface of the lake. Slowly, Hansel glanced away from the rippling surface to watch the Wolf with emotionless eyes, "Well, I think you did the right thing."

The Wolf nodded sadly, "She was always an odd one… I should have never married her."

"But then you wouldn't have Peter!" squeaked Red, trying to release the feeling of tension from her chest.

"Ah yes… At least I have Peter… I guess… It depends on whether or not we get out of here." The Wolf glanced up, saw nothing but white, and sighed, "Hansel, you said if we looked in the mirror, we would get out… But why aren't we? Do we have to wait or were you just a bloody idiot?"

"…I have no idea." Hansel grumbled, putting his face in his left hand, heedless of the small scratches he traced across his own skin.

With a small mutter of annoyance, Red stood, headed for the mirror.

"Gretel, where are you-"

"It can talk, right? I want to ask it how to get out of here." Red placed herself before the mirror, stared at her reflection, and whispered, "How do we get out?"

For a few moments, the mirror's polished front stayed bright, and Red was about to ask again when it dulled. Excited, she peered at the words that floated from the depths of a blurry reflection. Surprisingly, it wasn't in Latin.

"The Innocence asks… Shall Pain and Death answer for the solution?"

"Hansel, what does this mean?" Red cocked her head as she tried to find some meaning in it.

Coming over, Hansel peered at it before sniffing, "Say 'yes'. It said that we were 'Pain' and 'Death' right? But… how would we answer?"

Red shrugged, leaned forward, and said clearly, "Yes."

The mirror clouded before three words slowly scrawled out, "Look behind you."


	41. The Water Monster

_"Look behind you..."_

Red and Hansel glanced at each other, blinked, and then slowly turned to stare at the surface of the stagnant lake.

Rather oblivious to what had just happened at the mirror, the Wolf sat, watched the water stir slowly, "Is it going to show us something else?"

Hansel bit his lip, inadvertently drawing blood. "… Wolf… I would… get away from the water."

"What? Why? It's another memory, isn't it? What did it say? I feel like watching something _happy_ right now. Can you ask it to show us something happy? Too many sad things late-" The Wolf yelped as a thread of water suddenly whipped from the water, wrapped around his ankle, and dragged him towards the water. Instantly, Hansel raised his arm, loosed a shot with a snarl. The thread splattered, droplets of water splashing on the horrified Wolf. Scrambling up, he scurried back to Hansel and Red before hissing, "Send your black magic to hell, Hansel! Send it away!" The Wolf shook Hansel by the shoulders angrily as the lake surged upwards with a low, pained moan, trying to solidify.

Hansel shoved him away, furious, "It's not _mine_ to begin with, stupid! It's the mirror's!"

"Then break the mirror!" Pushing past Hansel, the Wolf drew back a fist, intent on smashing the glittering surface of the mirror. He swung, staged off-balance as his hand passed through thin air where the mirror had just a second before stood. Swearing, he whirled around, "It's gone!"

Red stared up at the water, which was sluggishly pressing together into a large and threatening shape. Shivering, she stepped back, bumped into Hansel's chest, who let a small growl rumble out of his throat. "I don't like this…"

Red quickly scurried behind him, clutched at his torn shirt as she peered fearfully around him.

Still not fully formed, the water monster slowly slinked forward, little droplets falling from its twisting body as it crept up onto the sand. Pausing, taking a long, wet breath, it froze before turning a large, misshapen head towards the three. Its jaws opened, revealing sharp but melting teeth and a long tongue, dripping with algae and mud.

Hansel raised his musket and shot, eyes glazing over with fearing hate.

Hissing as the bullet spattered into its undefined flesh, the water monster stalked angrily to its left, body crouched low to the ground. Red squeaked as Hansel stepped forward, bristling, attempting to scare the creature back. She grabbed the Wolf's hand, hugged it to her chest, trying to relieve her pounding heart.

The monster arched its back before snapping forward, great jaws opening like double doors as it tried to gobble Hansel up. Leaping back, Hansel began to loose wild shots at the beast, who reared, yowling, and tried to shake away the sting of the bullets before lunging for Hansel.

The Wolf turned, ran for the empty lake bed with Red in tow, lest they be in the way of Hansel. However, when they reached the hollow, Red stopped, jerked her hand from the Wolf's, stared at the bottom of where the lake had used to be, and then whispered, "I can't go in there."

The bottom of the lake bed was scattered with bones of humans and animals alike. The Wolf cast an uneasy glance at them before taking her hand again and muttering, "Just to be out of the way. It's either that or be squished."

Red had no say, for something hit her across the back, and she fell forward into the waiting arms of the Wolf. Turning, he ran with her away from the sandy shore, away from where the water monster and Hansel were battling. Bones skittered away from his paws, some disintegrating to dust while other cracked like marbles against the others.

Hansel was backed up against the wall, pale with fury, white with fear. In front of him, its shape constantly reshaping, trying to settle on a definite solid form, the water monster taunted him with small chortling growls, its long tongue snaking in and out as it tested the air for the scent of fear and hate. With a loud growl, it opened its jaws wide, lunged for Hansel.

A second later, its head splashed against the wall, water splashing everywhere as it yowled, pulled back, half of its head missing. Under its stomach, Hansel squatted, hoping the monster would not sense him there. Shaking its head, trying to recovers its lost senses, the beast turned about, glanced around, and then snorted angrily. It crept towards the field of bones that had once been the resting place for it.

Red shook as she sobbed dryly in fear. A layer of ribcages, skulls, and other bones lay atop of her, hiding her. The Wolf was only a few feet away, hidden too. She had listened, and now the sounds of battle had stopped. Was Hansel okay? Had the monster eaten him? Why was there no more-

She froze as she heard the tell-tale crunch of bones being crunched. Curling up slightly, trying to reassure herself that she was safe, that she was hidden, that the monster would not find her, she hiccupped softly, pressing her hands against her soiled dress.

Picking its way through its collection of bones, the water monster slowly neared the center of the lake bed, where Red and the Wolf had hidden. Hansel still stood under its belly, hiding in the creature's own shadow. It stopped, watery nostrils flaring, before it dropped its head, stuck its nose into the bones, and snuffled loudly before creeping forward, trying to find a scent of its prey. It was only twenty feet from Red.

After a few moments of sniffing at a single place in the bones, the creature raised its ugly heads, bared its liquid teeth, and pawed forward till it stood only a few feet to Red's left. It stuck its snout down into the bones once more before stiffening, drawing in a deep breath, and huffing a little, happy sigh.

Red stared at it between the gaps of a partially broken skull and a dull shoulder blade. She could see Hansel under it, felt a bit of relief for that, but the relief was nothing compared to the dark fear that grew within. Biting her lip, she shivered violently.

Instantly, the beast's pupiless eye latched upon her hiding place, seeing the small movement, and it quickly pounced up her. Red shrieked as the sharp claws closed around her.

Hansel yelped in horror before shooting straight upwards in an attempt to distract the monster. The creature blinked as it felt the little pinprick of a bullet against its stomach. Glancing down and under, it hissed when it saw Hansel before leaping forward away from him, turning, and glancing down to regard the squirming girl in its claws. Hansel raced forward, furious, ready to fight for his sister, but the Wolf beat him to the heroics. Rising up from his hiding place behind the monster, he leapt forward, bit the first thing he reached: the tail.

The creature yowled, dropped Red, and then whirled around to cuff the Wolf away. Skidding back on his feet, nearly falling over, the Wolf bared his yellowed fangs, gave a feral snarl. The monster turned, its rear paw crushing the bones a few inches from Red's head, and charged the Wolf. The Wolf waited till the last moment before dropping down to the floor. The dangerous teeth snapped together above him, but, before the monster could raise its head, the Wolf reached up, dug his fingers deep into the creature's flesh, and leapt up onto its head. Rearing up, the monster roared, shaking its head violently side to side as it tried to dislodge the Wolf from his vantage point. Not to be deterred, the Wolf released the watery flesh only to dig his claws into the beast's eyes, blinding it.

The roar turning to a yowl, the creature stumbled forward blindly, still shaking its head desperately. It stumbled, fell down into the bones that had been its prey long ago, and whimpered, bringing up its large paws to tear at its head.

The Wolf leapt off, avoiding the wild claws, and sprinted to Hansel and Red. Breathlessly, he whispered, "We get out _now_. How?"

Hansel shook his head, eyes wide, "I don't-"

The Wolf grabbed him by the throat, shook him angrily, "I will go mad down here! We need to get out before the monster gets bloody better, you arse!"

Suddenly, a long whispering moan came from behind the Wolf, and all three glanced back to see the monster shudder down, start melting slowly back into the water that made it.

Dazed, Red only started to move when Hansel grabbed her, dragged her back to the sandy shore to avoid the water. As the water slowly filled its old bed, the Wolf grumbled, "Great, we're where we started at. Stuck on a little islet in a pit filled with water that turns out to be a man-eating monster. That's just _great_."

Red slowly nodded, eyes wide, gaze vacant. Sighing, Hansel sat, rubbed his head, "Well… What I wouldn't give for Morgan right now…"

Silence fell upon them like a thick blanket, the only sound the noise of water trickling back into its cricks and crannies. Finally, the Wolf huffed, "Think it's dead?"

"What?"

"The water thing."

"I guess so…" Hansel scratched at his horns before sighing, pulling the demon stone from his neck, and setting it down besides him. Instantly, his tense muscles relaxed, and he laid back with a groan, "I hate growing horns…"

"I think you would. Horns were meant for deer and moose, not for stupid people like you."

Glaring at him, Hansel muttered, "But I could just as well ram them down your throat."

"Only if it's followed by your head."

"Shut up, both of you." Muttered Red.

The two men fell silent immediately, glowering at each other.

After a few minutes of listening to the quiet plip-plops of water, the Wolf straightened in alertness as a new sound found its way to his ears. "Hey, Hansel?"

"What?" grumbled Hansel, staring at the ceiling with sad eyes, obviously thinking of either freedom or Gretel.

"…I think the water's-"

The Wolf never had a chance to finish his sentence, for a dark body burst up from the water's surface, gasping, choking. Instantly, Hansel sat up, staring at the thing, glanced at the Wolf before whispering, "What the heck are you doing there, Wolf?"

"Stupid thing! That's not me!"

"It bloody looks like you!"

"It's not gray! Are you blind!"

Throwing up water, the black copy of the Wolf staggered up onto the shore. He slowly turned pained eyes up towards the three staring people at him. With unsteady steps, he stumbled towards them, black eyes glazed with an unknown emotion.

Hansel was instantly up, the demon stone gripped in his hand, his arms tensed in rage. Aiming at this new problem, he hissed, "Get away from us!"

The Wolf stared at the black version of himself before standing slowly.

Turning eyes to him, the copy inched forward, claws curling in jerking movements as he opened his mouth to whisper, "Memory." He stumbled, fell to his knees, and began to grope at the ground, shivering violently. Finding a stone, he held it up as if it were a nugget of gold before popping it into his mouth, swallowing it, and scrambling for more.

The Wolf gazed down at him with sympathetic eyes. However, Hansel stepped forward, kicked the copy's side, and sent him tumbling to his back. "Get away from Gretel!"

Instantly, the Wolf stood between the copy and Hansel, bristling, "Don't do that!"

"It's a monster from the mirror! I don't want it anywhere near Gretel!" Hansel reddened, eyes glinting savagely.

"Well, maybe the mirror sent it to let us out!" hissed the Wolf, shoving Hansel.

Rage overtaking him, Hansel swung the metal musket barrel attached to his forearm at the Wolf, hitting him in the shoulder. Surprised, the Wolf fell before quickly swiping out with a foot, flipping Hansel to his back.

Red hurried forward, not noticing the demon stone plunk down onto the sand. The copy continued to scavenge for pebbles, oblivious to the fight.

Straddling Hansel, the Wolf punched him across the face angrily, "How dare you? I'm going to use one of these," He grabbed one of the long horns behind Hansel's ears, tugged at it harshly, and then ripped it off. As Hansel shrieked in pain, the Wolf drew back the make-shift dagger and snarled, "to kill you, you pathetic jerk!"

Before the Wolf could bring it slamming down into Hansel's ribcage, however, Red jumped up, grabbed the end, and ripped it from his hands. "No!"

"Then I'll strangle him!" snarled the Wolf, latching his fingers around Hansel's neck.

Struggling, Hansel choked, "No! No! The… the stone!"

The Wolf started to growl before freezing, whirling around, and seeing the copy with the demon stone in his hand. Eyes widening, he leapt off of Hansel, lunged for the copy just as he tipped the stone into his jaws and swallowed with a small, happy grunt.

The next second, the copy wormed under the Wolf, squeaking loudly. "No! No! Off! Off!"

The Wolf bared his teeth, glared at Hansel with hatred in his eyes, "What the heck will that stone do?"

Hansel sat up, scooted back, eyes wide and muscles shivering, "Get away from him!"

"What will it-"

The copy shoved the Wolf off, rolled over, and retched up dark blood. Reaching forward, Hansel dragged Red back into his lap, clasped her tightly to his chest, and covered her eyes with a hand. "Do not look! Wolf! Close your eyes!"

Beneath Hansel's hand, Red could only see the dark, the lines of red-black glow that accented the cracks between his fingers, but her ears worked fine. She heard the Wolf gasp in surprise before the scrambling sounds of a quick and hurried escape sounded. The sounds of retching stopped, only to be replaced by an unearthly moan of pain and suffering. The sound alone made Red want to break down and sob, for the way it scratched across her ears caused a severe pain. She felt Hansel's hand curl up into her dress, clenching, and his face against her shoulder, wincing.

She was tempted to push his hand away to secretly see what was going on, but the thought was banished when a sudden hot breath warmed her front. Stiffening, she leaned back into Hansel, scared to know _what_ was sniffing at her. A demon stone attached to a Wolf made of black magic would be sure not to be anything cute and cuddly.

The hot breath faded, and there was a sudden loud, ripping sound, along with a burst of new light that managed to find its way through Hansel's hand to Red's eyes.

Hansel let his hand fall away, blinked as he glanced up, "Oh look… I see-"

The Wolf groaned, "An exit… Made by a demon made from your carelessness!"

"And your copy!" snarled Hansel, becoming enraged.

Red felt something move at her side, glanced down, and then balked when she saw Hansel's arm unraveling from around the musket. Feeling her violent jerk, Hansel glanced down, saw his arm, and sighed, "Well… This happens when the demon stone come off…" He grabbed the barrel of the musket, yanked at it harshly, and, with a slick sound, the stock slid out of his arm. The fleshy threads immediately dove back down into each other, reforming muscle and bone, and, after a few seconds, Hansel's normal hand hovered there. With a moan, Hansel flexed it, flinched, and then wriggled his fingers, "Never feels right afterwards though."

Red blinked, asked hesitantly, "And… your horns and claws?"

"Those have to be yanked- OW!" Hansel yelped as the Wolf grabbed his other horn, began to wrench his slowly back.

As Hansel squirmed, the Wolf smiled angrily before snapping it off with a brutal yank, "There you go, _friend_."

Hansel glared at him, tears in his eyes, "Did it register to you that those are attached to my skull?"

"Oh, I'm _so sorry_." The Wolf whacked him over the head. "Maybe next time you won't even grow pointy and demonic! And maybe then some black magic creature won't eat your _precious,_ little stone up and turn into a monster."

"... I'm sorry…" Hansel rubbed his head, sniffling.

With a furious sigh, the Wolf glanced up, grumbled, "Well, at least we can get out now… Climbing up won't be _that_ hard… It's not as deep as I thought… Maybe ten minutes going up…"


	42. Definition of A Memory Eater

It took five minutes to reach the top of the cliff with the Wolf in the lead, Red piggy-backing. He was a nimble climber, and one who could move rather quickly. Now, glaring over the edge of the cliff, the Wolf snorted, "You're slow."

Hansel was just pulling himself up onto the ledge right below the edge. Matching the Wolf's glare, he hissed, "Well, you didn't just suffer several bullet wounds trying to go save a stupid wolf!"

"… That's your fault." The Wolf sniffed.

Squawking in anger, Hansel snarled, "I have half the mind to shoot you dead, shove you back in there, and wake up the water monster just so I can watch it eat you!"

The Wolf stood, turned, and stiffly stomped to the mouth of the hallway, leaving Red to scurry, take his place, and help Hansel crawl back onto solid ground.

Standing, brushing himself off, Hansel bared his teeth, started to creep towards the Wolf, but Red grabbed his hand. "Don't you dare!"

Hansel slumped, "But he's… such an _annoying_ person…"

"No! You touch him, you can't live in my house anymore."

Sadly, Hansel nodded, "But when are _they_ going to leave, Gretel? The Wolf and Peter? I want it just so it's you and me and-"

The Wolf's solemn voice interrupted him, "Red… Hansel… I think we may have a itty-bitty, teensy-weensy problem…"

Sighing, Hansel turned, headed for the Wolf grudgingly, "What is it?"

The Wolf pointed to the ground, where the corpse of a guard lay. It seemed to have a large _bite_ missing from it, for all that was left were the hips and legs.

Hansel stared at it before sighing, "Let someone else take care of the demon monster thing. Right now, all I want to do is go back home, have Morgan get some bullets out of me, and then sleep… And maybe have a quick little dinner…"

"But…" the Wolf started to stay, but hesitated when Hansel glared at him fiercely. "… We… let it out, didn't we?"

"And I think there are more guards here to kill it. No need to go after it ourselves."

"Okay…" The Wolf frowned uncertainly before taking Red's hand and tugging at it, "And I can second the 'I want to get out of here'. Where's the way out?"

* * *

They met no resistance along the way to the little window Morgan had told them about, should worse things come to worse. The Wolf jumped down first, caught Red, and then watched Hansel drop down with a small curse when he peered across the moat to see the state of the town.

"The city is in bloody chaos! We're not going back there!" Hansel snarled, pointing across the water. Red could see smoke, hear screams coming from the wooden and brick houses.

"Then where do we go? Stay here?"

"Just until it grows peaceful again."

"I'd rather leave now. How about this? You tell me where you left your horse –I assume you brought one-, I go get it, and you stay on that shore and wait."

Hansel thought this over before nodding sullenly, "Fine. We left the horse at the Golden Dove Inn. Be off with you."

Instantly, the Wolf had disappeared into the water. Red stared at the ripples, wondering why he didn't surface, and then saw him pop up fifteen feet away, fur flattened against his skin, his ears laid back against his skull, his four paws paddling furiously at the water. She couldn't help but giggle at the little bobs of his head as he dog-paddled to the other side.

Hansel smirked wearily, "Can't even swim properly, can he?"

Lugging himself off onto the shore, the Wolf stretched himself up on all four paws before shaking back and forth violently. Water flew in all directions, and his fur puffed out before settling down once more against his skin. Happily, he bounded over the small embankment and disappeared into the town.

It only took ten minutes before the Wolf reappeared, tugging the wooden horse behind him by the reins. He waved at them, an action that sort of looked odd against the backdrop of a smoking city.

Hansel waded into the water, his musket strapped to his back once more. Turning, he glanced at Red, offered a hand, "You're coming?"

"Yes…" Red glared at the water in distaste as she put in a tentative foot.

Hansel nodded, turned, and dove underneath the surface, only to resurface a few feet away, spluttering. Smiling, he began to quickly swim towards the opposite shore.Red sullenly treaded water behind him, flinching and avoiding the clumps of algae.

* * *

When they reached the other side, the Wolf was munching happily on a small piece of bread. As Hansel helped the soaking Red over the small embankment, he said cheerfully, "The bakery's broken open, if you're hungry."

Hansel glared at him, "You ate a _man_ in there and you're hungry?"

"All that worrying and running and fighting made me hungry. I'm still digesting, though." The Wolf swallowed down the bread, patted his stomach thoughtfully, and then yawned, "I really want to sleep though…"

Hansel sniffed, grabbed Red, and lifted her up onto the horse. As she pouted there morosely, hating the feeling of being wet, hating the fact that her light dress was rather see-through, Hansel turned to the Wolf, regarded him crossly, and muttered, "You'll run?"

"I'll run, but I might need a good shake to get me awake halfway." The Wolf dropped to all four paws, stretched, paused when he heard the audible pop from his spine, and then groaned, "Oh… That felt good…" His tail wagged wildly behind him.

The horse eyed him curiously as he sauntered up to its side. Whickering softly, it turned, sniffed at him. The Wolf smiled, butted his nose against the horse's, and the horse instantly pranced about like a colt, excited, maple legs trembling with eagerness.

"It wants to race." Sniffed the Wolf pleasantly.

Hansel rolled his eyes, lifted himself up onto the horse behind Red, and growled, "We're not racing."

The horse suddenly slumped under them, and the Wolf's tail stopped waving as he muttered, "Well, I want to race too. It'll keep me awake, at least."

Glowering at him, Hansel finally grumbled, "Fine."

Suddenly, Red twisted around, "Wait! I left my cloak!"

* * *

After Hansel hunted for the red cloak and finally found it, the Wolf and the wooden horse for the town, Red and Hansel upon the 'rocking' horse's back. The horse won the race back to town, and the Wolf instantly vanished, telling Red that he was leaving to take a small nap at her house. Red nodded, went with Hansel to return the wooden horse to Pinocchio.

The moment he yanked open the door, face furious, Pinocchio snarled, "You said you were just going to get him back!"

"…He was already in there. I had to wait."

"And he got out alive?"

"Yes…"

The face of fury on Pinocchio's face frightened Red. Latching wooden eyes on Hansel, Pinocchio questioned angrily, "And the Wolf? You released him?"

Hansel nodded.

Instantly, Pinocchio relaxed, shoulders slumping and face growing calm, "Well then… That is good for him at least… I was half fearing that you would bring the whole force of constables of De Lille after you like a pack of dogs. Well… at least you succeeded in releasing the bloody animal." He put a hand to his forehead, sighed.

Red gazed up at him before asking softly, "What's the pit for?"

Pinocchio's eyes stayed slitted in thought for a moment before he jumped, startled, "The pit? They haven't filled it in?"

"No. We fell into it."

Pinocchio stared at Red before whispered weakly, "I have no idea what it's for. All that I know is that whoever went in usually died, and, if they came out, they were raving mad."

"I would be too." Snorted Hansel.

Pinocchio blinked, glanced at Hansel, and asked, "You… really went in?"

"More like fell, but yes."

"You are very lucky to be alive then." Pinocchio's tone grew serious and grave.

Uncomfortably, Red muttered, "And something else went out with us."

Pinocchio turned surprised, horrified eyes to her, "What came out?"

"Hansel?" Red turned to Hansel, hoping he would answer.

Lost in his thoughts, Hansel jerked, stared at Red, and then whispered, "Yeah... We might need to see Morgan about that."

* * *

"You have a witch? You have a bloody _witch_? Hansel! They're dangerous! They're not pets! For God's sake, they eat little children!" Pinocchio paced furiously behind Hansel, casting angry, hate-filled glances at Morgan.

Morgan eyed the puppet with glittering eyes, "Fussy one, aren't you?"

Pinocchio turned his face away, grimacing.

Slowly unlocking the manacles, Hansel muttered, "Morgan, I need to know something…"

"Did you bring food?" Morgan licked her lips, stomach grumbling.

"If you tell me this, I'll bring you something good, agreed?" Hansel matched Morgan's gaze, pulling the iron bracelets from her wrists.

Mulling over this as she massaged her wrists, Morgan finally nodded, "Agreed, but you have to let me cook it. No more burnt surprises."

"Good. Now, that terror room thing in De Lille-"

Suddenly, he was staring down at Morgan's hand, which been thrust under his nose. "Take off the marks. You let something out, didn't you?"

Licking his thumb, Hansel scuffed the chalk marks off before nodding, "Yep, and I'm not going to take off the other chalk mark, if that's what you're going to ask."

Morgan sighed, "Flat surface…" Standing, she strode into the warm sandstone room, stopped when she saw Red, licked her lips, and then slowly walked to the table. She conjured the miniature castle of De Lille up, as she had done before, and quickly poked about till she found the grand hall with the pit yawning in its center.

Hansel appeared at her side, eyes curious, "So…?"

"Terror holes are all different. What did this one do?"

"There was a mirror, showed us bad parts from our pasts, and then the water came to life, tried to eat us. _Then_ it made a copy of the Wolf. Does that help?"

"Oh…" Morgan shook her head, "A memory eater. We needn't worry that much then."

Hansel opened his mouth, about to ask his question, but Red squeaked, "What's a memory eater?"

Shrugging, Morgan explained, "They're nothing bad. Start out eating dirt and pebbles, slowly work their way up to eating other things."

"Like what?"

"People, stuff like that, but they're just after the memories. You see, there's always an original, which is your friend the Wolf, and the little thing gets a copy of his memories. Basically, what happens is the memory eater wants to _become _the original, so he goes around eating things he finds in the memories. If he gets far enough that he thinks he's close enough to the original, he'll go after the original."

Pursing his lips, Hansel asked, "So, he eats pebbles and stones because…?"

Morgan gave him a withering glare, "They're everywhere in memories, even if they're not the main object. If the Wolf came from a desert, the stupid creature would be looking for sand as his primary diet, but, seeing he came from the woods, the thing will start with rocks and branches, probably will move on to rabbits and mice from there, if he can catch them. They're very _stupid_ creatures, very _gullible, _very _weak_. Only think with their bodies and hunger, sometimes their minds."

Hansel cocked his head, "So they usually get killed before they can realize this whole memory eating thing?"

"How should I put this? Usually, they only get to a first victim, usually a little, little child, the original's son, daughter, etcetera. That's when they usually die, before or after that. I've never heard a memory eater getting to an original state… Why do you ask?"

"Um…" Hansel blushed, "Well… I might have lost the demon stone along the way and… the thing ate it 'cause he thought it was a pebble."

Shocked, Morgan stared at Hansel, the miniature castle fizzling out of existence in front of her, before turning red with fury, "You gave a black magic creature a demon stone?"

"…Well… Not _willingly_…" Hansel scuffed his bare foot against the ground. As soon as they had come inside the cave, he had kicked off his boots, revealing long, black nails that curled up like claws whenever he wiggled his toes.

"Do you know that will happen?" Morgan hissed.

"No, but I was going to ask you how to stop it, should it come here."

"Of course it'll come here! It's the copy of the Wolf! It'll try to stay within twenty miles of him, 'cause that's what it does!"

"…Then can you tell me its weaknesses? How to kill it?"

Morgan rolled her eyes, "Killing it _would_ have been simple, if you hadn't let it eat the demon stone!"

"… I'm sorry, but just tell me… Please?" Hansel eyes were filled with miserable anger.

"Oh, you're going to owe me so much meat after this!" grumbled Morgan, scratching at her neck with a finger. "Well… All I can tell you is that they hate direct sunlight. It burns their skin, so they hide in buildings, shadows, caves, and etcetera… But the demon stone might have killed that…" She glared at Hansel before continuing, "They also can turn to mist and water, since that's where they came from, but they can't eat anything in those states, so it won't change unless it has to. Anything else?" She bit her lip before shrugging, "That's all I remember right now."

"Very helpful." Said Hansel in a tone that could have been thankful or mocking or both.

Morgan glared at him, wondering if he had just made fun of her, and then muttered, "As I said, they're not smart things, these memory eaters. However... the demon stone might have changed that. They remember memories by appearance, so, if you change your appearance enough, it won't recognize you. Like… you?" She glanced at Red, who stiffened, and asked, "Do you always wear your hair down?"

"Yes, but-"

"Put it up. And get rid of the cloak. You had it on last time, so I figure you carry it around a lot."

Red's face fell. To not wear the red cloak was like not putting on shoes in the morning! It was her favorite piece of clothing…

Turning, Morgan appraised Hansel before sniffing, "Hansel, you'll be harder. Come here."

Instantly, Hansel was on guard, eyeing Morgan warily, "What are you going to do?"

"Change your hair to the color black. Blonde looks horrible on you, anyways."

"No! Don't touch my hair!" Hansel clapped his hands over his head.

Furious, Morgan lifted a finger, pointed it angrily at Hansel. Instantly, his hair wilted from a bright blonde to the color of black night. Moaning, Hansel let his hands drop, sobbed, "I liked my hair…"

"I'll change it back afterwards, you crybaby." Morgan sighed before sitting down, propping her feet up on the table, and grumbling, "Can I have food now?"

* * *

After Hansel locked Morgan back up, they hurried back to the town, made their way to Red's house as Pinocchio slunk back to his home to contemplate Hansel's pet witch, and found the Wolf curled up in the tub, surrounded by empty jars that had housed jam.

Grumbling, Hansel reached down, tugged at the Wolf's ear, "Come on… Wake up…"Groaning, scratching at his stomach with a sticky paw, the Wolf whispered, "Stop… I'm tired…"

Red poked his belly, "We need to go get Peter. Do you want to come?"

"Mmm…" One of the Wolf's milky eyes flickered open, "Peter? I was wondering where he was…. Sure, I'll come… What's wrong with you, Hansel? Did your hair die? I couldn't blame it, being stuck on top of an ugly face like yours." Slowly, he stood, glanced down at his jam-covered paws, grimaced, and began to lick at the sweet jelly.

Hansel ignored the insult, said gravely, "…You know that thing we let out of the pit?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"… It's called a memory eater."

"…And?"

"Well, other than the fact it might want to eat Gretel and me and Peter and eventually you and everybody you know, it has the demon stone and that can do enough damage as it is…"

"…What? Wait? What did you say? It wants to eat Peter?" The Wolf's fur slowly raised on end.

"Well, eventually… So… We have to go get him." Red pulled at his hand.


	43. The Search for Peter

Red had to knock several times at Bo Peep's door before her friend creaked open the door, peered out, and smiled happily, "Red!" Bouncing out, she hugged Red in a friendly greeting before squeaking, "Nice coat!"

Red was wearing the coat made from the Wolf's fur. Snuggling up in it, feeling just a bit of pride sneak up into her chest, she smiled and asked, "Hi, Bo. I came to pick up Peter?"

Startled, Bo blinked, glanced about, and then asked, "Is this a joke?"

Red stared at her before asking bluntly, "What?"

"Someone already came to pick him up."

"What?" Red eyes widened with surprised horror.

Frowning, Bo crossed her arms, "He said you had to be kept behind at your cousin's house and that you sent him to pick up Peter for you. I forgot his name, but he's one of those frequenters at Blue's dad's tavern… You didn't send him?"

"No!"

Around the corner, ears swiveling to pick up the conversation, the Wolf bared his teeth, started to round the corner, but was pulled back by Hansel. "No! We can't let people know you're back in town or you'll start of bloody riot!"

"She gave Peter away to a drunk? How dare she?" The Wolf slid to the ground, glared angrily at the snow.

"Little girls are gullible. She thought Red sent the man to pick Peter up. They're innocent, Wolf, and they trust too easily." Hansel peered around the corner, eyeing the two girls, waiting for the conversation to end so 'Gretel' would come back over.

Red bit her dry lips before questioning, "What does he look like?"

"Big… Scary, kind of, but I've seen him chatting with Blue's dad before, so I thought-"

"Was it Miller?" Red remembered with a flinch the night in the tavern.

"Ah! Yes! That was him!" Bo snapped her fingers, a remembering look coming across her face. "It was Miller, and he had brought a blanket so he could wrap your little wolfie up and keep him warm!" Her face lost the thoughtful look, turned miserable, "I did something wrong, didn't I…?"

"… No, no… It's okay…" Red patted her shoulder before excusing herself, "But I have to go get, Peter, okay? I'll see sometime later."

"Okay… I'll be home all day… Little brother's sick, so I have to make soup and- Ah! It's horrible! Boogers _everywhere_!"

Red forced a laugh before turning, hurrying away, "Bye, Bo!"

* * *

Miller's home was in the center of town, a rather normal looking house, considering the riotous man who lived within. The only reason Red knew where was it was because she delivered a package from Mr. Humpty-Dumpty, the local bookseller, to the man. She shivered as she, the Wolf, and Hansel hurried along through the snowy alleys. A bleak gray sky had hidden the sun, and a small wind blew its icy breath at their faces. Red hated having her hair up, for her neck was left exposed to freeze in the wind. 

The Wolf padded nervously at her side, tail in between his legs. He paused, sniffed, and then muttered, "I really hope nothing has happened to Peter…"

"He's okay, don't worry." Red patted his head softly.

"But this Miller was so angry at the tavern because of him… What if he did something to him?" The Wolf's tone grew grievous as he imagined some horrible scene.

The next second, he yelped as Hansel kicked his rear leg. Baring sharp teeth, Hansel hissed, "Stop worrying! We're going to get the little bugger back!"

"…He's not a bugger… He's my son…" moaned the Wolf, ears laying flat against his skull.

"Just… stop worrying." Grunted Hansel, pulling his leather jacket closer around him.

Red glared at Hansel, grumbled, "Can you ever _not_ instigate an argument between you and the Wolf?"

"No." Hansel gazed innocently at her.

Huffing, Red turned, stomped ahead to the corner. Behind her, she heard Hansel yelp as the Wolf kicked back in an act of revenge for the previous kick. She rolled her eyes, sighed, and turned the corner. Instantly, she froze.

The memory eater stood in front of Miller's house, all four paws planted in the snow. Taller than two horses together, long, and lithe, he crept forward, not noticing the girl who had turned the corner. He sniffed at the door, growled softly, and the long row of spikes that ran down his spine raised in indignation at the obstacle that blocked his way into the house. His bushy tail slunk in between his legs before he backed up, bunched up, and sprang for the roof. Quite a few wooden slats tumbled down to the snow as he scrabbled for a foothold, but it regained his footing and inspected the chimney before licking his lips, slowly fading away.

Red hastily backed up around the corner, leaned against the wall, and put a hand to her chest to try to calm her frantically beating heart. Seeing her do so, the Wolf and Hansel stopped shoving and kicking each other, stared at her, "What's wrong?"

"The thing… It's in Miller's house... That memory eater thing..."

"What?" The Wolf's fur frizzed out like a bottlebrush's bristles. "But… If Peter's in there-" He stopped, started forward with a worried frown.

Hansel grabbed his tail, yanked back, "Ah, no! You stay with us!"

"But Peter could be in there! That thing could be eating him!" The Wolf sobbed, pulling Hansel forward, ignoring the pain in his tail. "Let me go! I have to get Peter!"

Hansel grimaced as long gray fur strands came out in his hand, but he somehow managed to keep his grip on the Wolf's tail, "No, you stay here!"

Red was about to order them to stop arguing and fighting when she heard the crunch of footsteps behind her. Glancing back, she froze when she saw Miller, a small bag at his side, his face buried in small, scrubby book. Her eyes grew wide just as the Wolf heard, turned to see.

Instantly, Hansel was laying on his back in the snow, dazed, and the Wolf had Miller pushed up against the wall, his teeth bared in a dangerous snarl, "How dare you take my son? If he dies, you will be seeing lots more than pain! I will personally make your life a living hell before eating you, you no-for-good git!"

Miller stared at the Wolf, gasping as the claws around his throat tightened with rage, "What? Wha- You're in jail!"

"Not anymore! Now, where is my son?" The Wolf snapped at Miller's face, teeth clicking a few centimeters from the man's nose.

Miller struggled, recovering from his shock, flailing against the Wolf's hold, "No! You should be dead! I'll kill you myself! I will! I will!"

The Wolf punched him across the face before kneeing up harshly. As Miller slumped, cringing, moaning in pain, the Wolf hissed, "I will ask you one more time before I bite your throat out! Was my son in your house or not?"

"N-n-n-no…" sobbed Miller.

Hansel recovered, sat up, and glared at the Wolf's back.

"Then where is he?"

"T-the r-r-river…"

"Why is he at the-"

Suddenly, the loud wrenching noise of wood splintering and tiles slipping to crack onto each other sounded. Red glanced hesitantly around the corner, saw Miller's house in ruins, the memory eater chewing angrily at a piece of wood in the pile of debris before swallowing it down, standing, and stalking from the rubble. Snuffling, he bent, licked up some snow, and then began to run down the street towards the corner.

Red squeaked in fear, turned, and scurried, "It's coming! It's coming!"

Hansel needed no second urging. Scrambling up, he ran to her, grabbed her hand, and tugged her to the dark alley that stood only ten feet away.

The Wolf didn't listen, though. Pressing up against Miller, tightening his hand around the man's throat, he lilted dangerously, "Where at the river is my son?"

"I… I don't know…" Wheezed Miller, eyes glazing with fear and the lack of oxygen.

Hansel snarled, "Wolf, get in here! The memory eater's coming!"

"No, not until he says where Peter-"

With a growl, the memory eater skidded around the corner, black eyes glittering with ravenous, eager hunger. Seeing the two, he pounced forward, knocked both down, and then grabbed Miller in his jaws. Happily, he dragged his screaming prize back away from the Wolf, who stared in furious horror.

Red and Hansel stared as the memory eater stopped once he had distanced himself a good twenty feet from the Wolf, laid down, and pinned Miller under his large, sharp claws. As the man struggled, the memory eater latched an eye on the Wolf and grunted, "Memory."

Stumbling up, the Wolf stalked angrily towards him, fur raised on end, "Don't you dare. He's the only one who knows where Peter is."

"Peter… Memory." The memory eater gave a sharp smile, started to drool.

The Wolf stopped, shivered, raised a trembling hand, and muttered, "Please… I need that man alive. He needs to show me where Peter is… Please, don't kill him. Just not yet. I'll give him to you afterwards."

Turning his black eyes down to his flailing prey, the memory eater licked his teeth. Without warning, he snapped down, tore Miller's head and arm from his body with a good wrench, and then swallowed the morsels down before grabbing the jerking, bleeding body up, bounding away down the street.

The Wolf stared after the memory eater in disbelief before swearing loudly, turning, and hissing, "We're going to the river to find Peter! Now!"

Hansel gazed at him, awed, "That didn't… scare you? He just ripped a man in half…"

Behind him, Red was puking up the little she had in her stomach.

"If we don't go to the river, _you_'_ll_ be the one being torn in half, and I won't stop there!" threatened the Wolf furiously, ears laid back in aggressive, worried anger, his voice slipping between a whining squeak and a low, hate-filled growl. "We go to the river and find Peter, first thing!"

* * *

The river's icy cover had melted, leaving a torrent of mad, swirling water to rush down the bed, causing the snowy silence to be broken by the harsh sound of water and the debris it carried downstream. 

Ears lifted, eyes wide, fur raised on end, the Wolf weaved to and fro, calling Peter's name loudly.

"Peter! Peter! Where are you, Peter! It's papa! Please! Peter? Where are you?"

Hansel sighed, already bored of this after ten minutes. "Wolf, wouldn't it be better if we split up?"

"Oh, yes!" The Wolf glanced back in agitation, "Would you?"

"Okay… Me and Gretel will go that way," Hansel pointed to his right, "And you can go that way."

"I go upstream, you go downstream?"

"Yes."

Before the Wolf could reply, Red snorted, "I don't need a person to come with me. Hansel, wouldn't it be better if you search the opposite side of the river?"

"… Yes, but-"

"Then search there. I'll look downstream."

Hansel gazed at her before sighing, "Just be careful, please… Don't fall in… There're bad places in this river that can rip a person apart, and I don't want to lose you to it."

"You won't. I'll be careful." Red turned, scrambled down the side of the river, calling Peter's name, pulling the coat around her as the chilling wind raised its voice once more.

Hansel stared after her before glaring at the Wolf, "You're going upstream, if you didn't catch it."

The Wolf stared after Red, eyes suddenly soft and glimmering, "She's too nice… And she cares so much more Peter too…" His voice cracked.

Hansel grunted, turned, and poked him, "Go upstream."

"Yes!" Recovering, the Wolf turned, dropped to all fours, and vanished into the trees that bordered the river.

With a sigh, Hansel turned towards the rapid whitewater and grumbled to himself. How was he going to cross?

* * *

Red trotted down the shore, glancing from left to right, calling Peter's name. She hoped he wasn't stuck out in the snow without appropriate coverings; if he was, he'd be freezing, catching cold-lung, maybe even dying! The very thought urged her to hurry, and she doubled her pace. For the next five minutes, she continued to call his name before pausing to take a small rest. Panting, the fur coat insulating her sweaty heat to the point of discomfort, she sat upon a rock, stared at the dark, muddy water with desolate eyes. Was there even a chance that they would find Peter? 

In her mind, a torturing picture began to play out: Peter in the snow, shivering, whining for her and for the Wolf, crying, his tears turning to small snowflakes on his cheeks; later, him, weak with cold and exhaustion, curling up in the snow, crying himself to sleep; finally, the last picture was of Peter, frozen, still, dead.

Red shook the picture from her mind before leaping up, rushing down the river-beach once more. She was going to find Peter, even if it took all night! She wasn't going to leave Peter out here to freeze!

She continued jogging for another few minutes before taking another moment to stop and gasp. The snow made it so very hard to run, and the rocks underneath caused her to stumble and trip! What an awful time of year to have lost a little, blond wolf in the snow! She stopped, angry at herself, at the winter, at Miller, at the memory eater, at _everything_, and glanced around in search of a stick to vent her frustration on. Seeing one in the river, sticking up out of the shallow mud, she stomped to it, leaned out over the water, grabbed it, and yanked it up. However, as she turned, her foot, placed on a slick, moss-covered rock, slipped, and she tumbled back into the water.

Instantly, the current had her in its grip, and she breathed in water as she struggled. The fur coat grew heavy, dragging her down to the deeper part of the river. She sped along, moving much faster than she could have on foot, but was halted by a small barricade of rocks. Gasping as they hit her along her side, she clambered up to the surface, gasped, spat out water, and then vomited out vile water.

Only then did she see a little piece of wetted down blonde fur clinging to the branch sticking out between two of the rocks. Startled, she picked at it, held it up, and then let it drop before slowly pulling herself up onto the rocks. Her coat, water dripping from it, weighing her down, made the action slow and strenuous. Gasping, she gave a final pull, tumbled over the tip of rocks onto the rough, pebbly sand of a small secluded sandbar blocked by rocks on all sides. From the shore, it would have looked like a small embankment of rocks, nothing else.

However, inside, was where the treasure was hidden. There was the circle of moist sand, a little pool of slowly trickling water, and a small blonde wolf curled up, unmoving.

Gasping, Red scrambled over to him, brushing away small piles of snow from around him, and then pulled him halfway into her lap. As she stroked his damp face, she whispered, "Peter… It's Marie… Wake up, Peter…"

She blinked in surprise as Peter suddenly vomited water into her dress, jerking to life. One of his legs was twisted oddly under him, obviously broken, and he began to cry loudly, clutching at her as if she were the last person on earth, his only lifeline. His little claws dug into her dress, into her skin, causing her to flinch.

"Mama! It hurts! It hurts! Make it stop!" He buried his snout into her chest, black water dribbling from it.

Disregarding the 'mama', Red hastily pulled Peter's twisted leg out from under him, straightened it, and then hugged his shivering, battered frame to her chest, caressing his ears softly as he continued to sob violently. "It's okay, Peter… We're going to take you home, put you in bed, and we're going to make you all better, okay?" She started to stand.

Peter squeaked, a high-pitched sound that was layered with pain and longing. Dragging her back down, he continued to embrace her, "Don't leave! Please! Stay!"

Red stared down at him before craning her neck and glancing around. There was really no way that she could help Peter to shore, for he was too heavy for her to carry. She might be able to jump from rock to rock, but she couldn't bear to leave Peter here alone in such a miserable condition.

Oh, what to do, _what to do_?

Settling down, she sighed. After enough time had passed, the Wolf and Hansel would come looking for her, she would wave them over, and they could take Peter back to the house.

A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over her, and, yawning, she slowly laid down, helping Peter find her stomach so he could use it as a pillow. Instantly, Peter calmed, nuzzling closer to her, dragging his broken leg sluggishly closer until he was pressed against her, shivering.

Red petted his head, whispered, "Please feel better…"

Peter was asleep.

Red smiled tenderly, stripped off the wet fur coat so she could lay it over both of them, hoping it would provide _some _warmth, yawned, and then closed her eyes to follow Peter's example. The Wolf and Hansel would find them, help her take Peter back home. She just had to wait.


	44. The Memory Eater

Red's dream was horrifying. She lay upon the small sandbar, holding the dead corpse of Peter, feeling the ice creep up around them, ready to freeze her over. However, before the ice could reach her, the Wolf appeared from the mist surrounding them. Seeing Peter, he stopped before snarling, "You couldn't save him?"

She tried to sob a reply, but she couldn't. Savagely, the Wolf grabbed her up, opened his jaws wide, and-

Red jerked awake, sitting straight up as her dream vanished. Momentarily dazed by the harsh bleakness of the real world, the snow, the disorienting sound of rushing water, she didn't feel Peter twist around in his sleep, trying to readjust to her changed body position.

Only then did slowly glance up, feeling warm breath beating down on her hair, saw the memory eater peering down at her with curious, hungry black eyes. In his jaws was the desiccated corpse of a deer.

Yelping, Red turned, grabbed Peter, and hugged him to her chest. In his sleep, Peter grumbled, "Mama… Stop…"

The memory eater opened his jaws, dropping the deer, and then bent down to sniff at Red and Peter with intrigued grunts. Red stared at the flaring nostrils, the glimmering, narrowed eyes, and the spines that flared and settled as the small, simple mind within the great skull tried to process who and what these two were. Finally, the beast drew back, gruffly said, "Memory."

Scooting back ever so slightly, Red flinched as the memory eater hissed loudly, snapped at her, and then rounded the rocks, perched precariously atop them. Settling down, he regarded them crossly, "Memories _stay_."

Red twisted to regard him before slowly turning, careful not to move Peter's broken leg. As the memory eater bristled, she asked slowly, "… You're… not going to eat us?"

"Have memory." Standing back up, he circled the rocks once more, grabbed the dead deer in his jaws, and bit it in half. He swallowed down a half before sniffling, setting down the other half, and putting a paw to his bloated stomach, "Bad memories in stomach. Hurts. No other memories today."

Red gulped. The only reason he was letting them live was because he was suffering indigestion?

The memory eater slid down into the small circle of sand, sitting with his hind legs spread-eagled and his front paws to his stomach. Glancing at Red slyly, he muttered, "Watch little wolf for while. Hurt. Happy when you came. Not hurt no more. Make me happy? Make it not hurt?"

Red's throat, suddenly dry, made her voice crack as she stammered, "I-I-I don't… Peter and you are two differ-"

Looping his paw around her, the memory eater dragged her to him, pressed her against his belly, and ordered bluntly, "Make better."

Red stared up in fright. Under her shivering, numb hands, his black fur felt like woven metal, hard, wiry, painful.

Becoming indignant, the memory eater hissed, pushed her against him harder, "Make better!"

Slowly, trembling, Red opened her arms wide, hugged the beast's belly. The memory eater paused, contemplating the feeling, and then sighed. Slowly, he touched her head, hesitated, and began to pick at the strands of hair, "Good feeling. Keep do."

Red balked at the feeling of his claws against her head. He was trying to copy her with Peter, except, instead of her comforting Peter for the sake of friendly love, he was stroking her so she would continue to kill his pain.

After a few moments, watching Red stared up at him, frozen in horror, the memory eater muttered, "I tell, 'Keep do'." He waited for a few more seconds before cuffing her over the head lightly, grumbled, "Keep do!"

Red scurried forward, rested hesitantly against the memory eater's belly. Instantly, he relaxed, resumed stroking her hair. "I like. I keep girl. Make me feel good."

Red flinched. Keep her? This monster keep her?

"Keep do!" He cuffed her over the head again.

Red sniffled, trying to keep back tears, but failed. Instantly, the memory eater was intrigued, his simple mind not comprehending. Yanking her away from his belly, he lifted her up into the air, sniffed at her face, and then asked, "Why water?"

"You… hurt me…" whispered Red through her tears, shaking.

The memory eater contemplated this before setting her down, cradling his stomach with both hands, and moaning loudly. A large tear welled at the corner of his right eye before disappearing into the iron-black fur. Instantly, his spines flared, and he asked happily, "That?"

Red gazed at him, a bit stricken at its simplicity. It was trying to learn how to _cry_? "Uh…Yeah…" She giggled nervously, wiping tears from her eyes.

"But no water, 'cause girl make good." The memory eater grabbed her, pushed her against his stomach again.

Red sighed, gave up trying to stop, and began to just lean against the hard fur, pretending to actually hug it. The memory eater moaned, delighted, and then grew distracted with Peter. "Who other memory?"

"Peter."

"Memory to original?"

"He's the Wolf's son." Red glanced up, began to back away.

"Do!" Furious, the memory eater shoved her back against his belly before calming, reaching over, and gently scooping Peter up. Bringing him over, he sniffed at him before crinkling his nose in distaste, "Sick." He dropped Peter.

Peter landed on his broken leg. Screeching, he awoke, began to cry, clutching his leg to his chest as he cried. Immediately, Red started to hurry over to comfort him, but the memory eater snatched her, held her against his stomach with one hand as he snarled, "No leave!"

Red angrily regarded him before resuming her 'comforting'.

After a few seconds, the memory eater let his hand drift away from her, became interested in Peter again, "Why he water?"

"You hurt him!"

Hearing her voice, Peter curled up, whimpered, "Marie… Mama…"

"Can I please go and-"

"No!" roared the memory eater, the spines sticking up from his shoulder blades and his spine flaring with fury. "_I_ hurt! _I _get good feeling! Not him! Not him!_" _He reached for Peter, claws lengthening to dangerous points.

Red, scared for Peter, squeaked, "No! Don't hurt him! I'll… comfort you…"

The memory eater paused before settling down, leaning back, and whispering, "Good."

For the next few minutes, Red continued to hug the memory eater's stomach. Every time she moved, wanting to ease the ache on her arms, he would growl, make a threatening gesture towards Peter, and hiss, "_Do!_" She managed to overcome the tiredness in her arms, in her legs, just so Peter could slowly cry himself back to sleep. Finally, the beast pushed her away and grunted, "Good. Now sleep and make better. Tired after good day eating. Tomorrow, I eat Peter memory, you make better if hurt."

"No! You can't eat Peter! You ca-"

Suddenly, she lay on the ground, bleeding from the nose. Bristling, the memory eater snarled, "Tomorrow, I eat Peter memory, you make better after! Now sleep and make better!" He flopped down, curling around Peter, and holding up a paw so Red could take a place by him.

Red glared at him, but grudgingly did as she was told. As the large, heavy paw rested upon her, the memory eater lilted, "No move. If so, Peter memory death."

Red nodded sullenly, flinched as the beast snuggled up closer to her, trying to copy what he had watched Peter do twenty or so minutes before. Within moments, the memory eater was snoring loudly, asleep, the two little ones trapped under his paws.

* * *

The Wolf and Hansel grumbled at each other as they stalked down the beach of the river, glaring at each other. 

"It's your fault Gretel's lost." Muttered Hansel, eyes worried.

"You're the one who allowed her to go downstream by herself! And it's your fault _Peter_ is lost! If you had told her to stay and watch him, we wouldn't be here looking for _both_ of them!"

Hansel's hands slowly curled up into fists. "Say that again, and I'll knock those pointy teeth out. Then we'll see how ferocious you are without them!"

"I'll take your gun and melt it down. See if you can shoot me then!"

"And I'll-" Hansel started hotly.

Suddenly, the Wolf's hand flashed out, thumping into Hansel's chest. Before Hansel could swear at him, the Wolf pointed at the river. Following his finger, Hansel froze when he saw the memory eater's dark form, rising and falling jerkily as somewhat audible snores crept through the air. Instantly, Hansel's and the Wolf's faces grew grievous. Were their two loved ones in the belly of that creature? The Wolf and Hansel hurried forward, found some stones that led to the little island in the center of the river, and leapt over to see if there was any evidence that would tell them that Peter and Red were dead. However, they only found a very awake and frantic Red and a sleeping Peter with a broken leg.

"Take Peter! If you move me, he'll wake up, and he'll kill us all! He won't kill me!" Red snarled at Hansel, who was reaching for her. "Just make sure he makes no noise!"

Slowly, gently, the Wolf took Peter in his arms, cradled him, and melted with relief, "Thank God!"

Hansel took Red's shoulders, tried to drag her out from under the memory eater's paw, but the beast growled deeply in his sleep before curling up tighter around Red.

"Leave me! I'll get away, don't worry! He won't eat me! Hey! Hey! Hansel! Let go!"

Hansel whispered angrily, "I'm not going to leave you here with this monster! You're coming back with us!"

"No, I'm not! If he wakes up, he'll kill all of us! So stop it! I'll bite you! I will!" Red opened her mouth, revealing her white teeth. When Hansel made a move to grab her shoulder again, she snapped at his hand.

Hansel growled, "Fine then! Be that way, Gretel, but I'm not going back without you!" He sat down, crossed his arms to prove his point.

"Go away, Hansel!"

"I'm not going withou-" The sentence was cut short as the Wolf delivered a merciless blow to Hansel's head. Eyes rolling up, he fainted, slumped to the floor.

Bending, the Wolf lugged up the limp body with a small grunt before whispering, "I'm trusting you with this, Red. I'm going to have Hansel take me to that stupid witch of his, try to see if we can't do something about this. Meanwhile, stay alive, and be assured that I won't eat Hansel."

Relieved, Red smiled, "Thank you…"

"Say nothing. Now, take care. Oh, and… thank you, thank you, _thank you_ for finding Peter and keeping this thing from killing him… I'll give you a thank you hug once we get kill this thing though, so you have to wait, okay?"

Red grinned wearily, "Just… go away and take Peter and Hansel somewhere safe."

Nodding, the Wolf turned, carefully picked his way to the shore with his two burdens, and disappeared into the night.

* * *

The next day, an exhausted Red woke up to the exasperated growls of the memory eater, who had woken to find his breakfast gone. Angry, he kept circling the circle of sand, expecting Peter to appear, but even his simple mind could not bring this to be. Finally, after the twentieth go-around, he grumbled, "Memory gone. Want memory…" He eyed the sullen Red before licking his lips, motioning to her, "Make feel good. Hurt here." He placed a hand to his head before flopping down, waiting for her to comply. 

Red slowly crawled over, hugged his snout. For a few moments, she lay there, tempted to fall asleep, before the memory keeper grew annoyed and hissed, "Not feel good! Make feel _good_!"

Moaning, Red reached up, began to stroke the memory eater's wiry, ragged ears. Instantly, the beast withered with a satisfied moan, "Good… Keep so…"

He spent little time actually basking in the feeling, only a minute or two, before shaking her off, grabbing her up in his jaws, and bounding to the shore in a single leap. Ignoring the weary but frightened squeaks from his 'memory', he ran into the trees, ears perked up to catch any betraying sound, spines flared to scare off any predator that might be bigger than him, which was most unlikely. Suddenly, he stopped, eyes rooted on a small rock that lay at the base of a tree. Dropping Red, he wandered over, nudged the rock, and then swallowed it down with a satisfied grunt. His tail wagged before he turned, motioned to Red to come over.

Red moaned, curling up in the snow. The fur coat was still on the island, forgotten on the sand, and the freezing snow turned her bad night's sleep to torture. "Please… just let me sleep."

Sighing, the memory eater ripped a branch from the nearest tree, padded over, and dropped it before her, "Eat."

"… I can't eat wood…" Red glared up at him, eyes filled with hate.

The beast shrugged, grabbed it up, and choked it down before seizing her and rushing through the trees. During the journey, somewhat warmed by the memory eater's moist breath, Red fell fast asleep.

Coming to the rocky side of the hill, the memory eater paused, glanced around to see if anyone was watching, and then slunk to the rocks. Clambering up, he found what he was looking for: a hole the width and height of a horse that he had found the day before while he had explored this new territory. He fit his head through before squeezing the rest of himself in, glancing around in the darkness, and smiling around his mouthful.

A perfect cave for him and his new 'memory'.

* * *

When Red woke up, she lay on a little pile of dried out lichen and dirty, old leaves. Blinking, she glanced about in the dim light before hearing a small mutter above him. Glancing up, she froze when she saw the memory eater, claws keeping him upside down from the smooth sandstone ceiling, tugging at a large rock. 

"Bad rock not come out. Need light. No light bad. Need light."

Growling, the beast readjusted himself before throwing all of his strength into a final push. The rock dislodged, fell, and crashed ten feet away, allowing a raw beam of sunlight to sparkle through, lighting up the cavern just a little bit. Chortling happily, the memory eater dropped to the floor, took the rock, and swallowed it down before sitting, regarding his new home, and noticing Red upright and staring at him.

Instantly, he stood before her, tail wagging, "Look! New home for I and memory!"

Red grimaced, "That's lovely…"

Instantly, the memory eater froze, ears swiveling to center upon Red, "Memory not happy with new home?"

"…I'm… just hungry…"

"Hunger? Oh! Hunger!" The memory eater placed a hand to his stomach, moaned, and managed to squeeze two tears out. "I hunger! Memory to eat, memory to eat, right before sleep. Memory there, memory here, memory everywhere to be eat!" The thing put his two forepaws to his ears, as if trying to keep his head from exploding. "And hungry, and cannot find the starting fast! No breakfast! Peter memory away during night! Bad, bad!" Grumbling, he slumped down before muttering, "Girl memory not to eat, but look good. Want to eat, but know bad to. She make bad feeling better."

Red swallowed a small ball of fear, nodded, "I'm happy that is. Otherwise, I'd be eaten."

"…Humph." The memory eater rolled onto his back before pointing to his stomach and ordering, "Make hurt go away. Not bad memory hurt. Empty memory hurt."

Now he wanted her to make the pain from starving go away? She herself felt it! And he had just eaten a rock! "But I'm hungry…"

The memory eater sniffled before his eyes suddenly lit up. Rolling up, he chuckled, "I hunt, find food that girl memory eat! Good idea! My idea!" He swelled with pride, as if it was the first idea he had ever made. After a few moments, he let one of his eyes open, found Red, and asked irately, "Idea good?"

"Oh, yes, yes!" lied Red glumly. So he was now expecting praise?

The memory eater nodded happily, "Very good idea. Fact, best idea ever was." His chest swelled even more as he puffed out, putting a clawed paw to his chest as if posing for a portrait. "Better than idea of original too. Better than original, me." He waited for a few seconds before turning his head to glare at Red.

"Yes! Yes!" Red couldn't believe this monster was making her doing this.

"Good. You learn good." The memory eater turned, licked her sloppily, and then licked his lips, "I find memory, we eat me and you?"

Red's blood chilled. A 'memory' might be Hansel or Peter or some inanimate, inedible object. "Um… Could I have some vegetables?"

"Vege-" The memory eater paused, a confused look on his face, before he snorted proudly, "I get veggiables for girl memory."

* * *

Apparently, the memory eater had no idea what any of the names were for the things he found in the Wolf's memories. As he searched vainly for something that even sound slightly like 'veggiable', he found several small pheasants, devoured them, and then wondered if they had been vegetables. So, cross and sullen, he took a pine cone, something featured predominately in the Wolf's memories, returned to the cave with it. 

Dropping in front of Red, he muttered, "Veggiable. Eat."

Red stared. During the memory eater's absence, she had tried to climb the sandstone wall to the exit, but to no avail; sandstone had very few natural grips and was slippery with dust and dirt as it was. The effort had left her hungry and exhausted, very much less with a sense of humor. "That is not a vegetable."

The memory eater bristled, "It is! It is veggiable! Eat!"

"That's not eatable!"

"Eat! Eat!" The memory eater bounced up and down, seeming to go mad with humiliated pride and fury.

Sighing, Red took the pine cone, took a little wooden leaf from it, and pretended to nibble at it. The memory eater calmed, spines lowering, and then cooed his happiness, "Good. Girl memory eat, be strong, and give good feeling to I if feel bad."

Red grimaced, waited till the memory eater turned to glance about the cave before spitting out the pinecone leaf and hiding it under some of the lichens and leaves that made her bed.

* * *

That night, the memory eater demanded that Red make his paw feel better, so Red had to caress it while secretly inspecting. When she finally found the thorn stuck up through the bottom of the pad and pulled it out, the memory eater roared with discomfort, swatted her away, and quickly retreated to his corner, shivering with fury, nursing his hurting paw as Red tried to staunch the bleeding of her nose. 

The next morning, however, when the beast awoke, he found his paw all better. Happy, he escaped from his dark cave, stole into a barn, devoured two cows, and then saw a sign that spelled 'Vegetables – A shilling per bushel'. Immediately, he remembered Red's food request, regarded the crudely drawn pictures under it of a carrot, a cabbage head, and a potato, and then stole out to the farmer's fields to see if there was anything. When he found none, due to the snow, he grew incredibly angry, broke into the farmer's house, devoured the man, and then found the last few of the farmer's vegetables at the bottom of a basket. Ecstatic, the monster took, along with the sign, and returned to his cave.

This time, he dropped the basket and the sign proudly in front of her, tail waving high like a flag, "Veggiables."

Red pounced upon the food, began to nibble at one of the three carrots ravenously.

The memory eater stared down at her before sighing, sitting down, and waiting. After five minutes, he cleared his throat, waited, and then cleared it again. When Red didn't react, he finally grumbled, "No thank?"

"Oh… Thank you." Red glanced up at him, a little piece of carrot on her lips.

The memory eater fluffed up with happiness at the thank you, "Good. You eat. Now make feel better." He sat down, motioned at his stomach.

Groaning, Red stood , took a final bite of her carrot, put it back into the basket, and went over to the memory eater. Hugging his swollen stomach, she murmured glumly, "You had a good day in hunting, let me guess."

"Good! Good!" The memory eater nodded contentedly, scratching at his side, "I eat good, but hurt after. Why good then bad?"

"…I… don't know…" lied Red.

"Mm…. This good." The memory eater pushed her away, flopped down, and closed his eyes as he lifted a paw, "Make better while sleep."

"… There's no cushion there… Can I go sleep on the leaves and-"

Rolling onto his back, the memory eater patted his stomach, "Pillow. Peter memory use stomach pillow. Girl memory use stomach pillow. Sleep. Now." He reached for her.

Red sullenly let him perch her atop his stomach before he forced her to lie down. Then, snuggling down, the memory eater fell straight to sleep. Red glared down at his peaceful face before sliding down, attacking the bag of vegetables once more.

* * *

**OOC: Sorry for the very late update, but fanfiction wasn't letting any chapters through for some reason...**


	45. The Loss of An Eye

"Will you please let me go?"

"No."

"Gretel could be still alive, and you're killing her!"

"No, I'm not. The thing won't eat her." The Wolf glanced back down at his paws, where he was fiddling with the bandage that held Peter's broken leg. His son was asleep, whining in his sleep, whimpering for 'mama'.

Hansel struggled on his chair. When he had woken up the day before, he had been tied to the seat, and he had had to grudgingly follow the Wolf's rules: no biting, no kicking, and eating everything he gave to him, which had meant bags and bags of sugar and flour.

Hansel _hated_ it, and he had vowed that he would somehow get the Wolf into a humiliating position and do the same to him, but he needed to escape the chair first. Also, the Wolf's silly, little superstition that catching moths and putting them in jars around Peter would bring good luck annoyed him to no end; at the moment, there were six jars, a large white moth fluttering in each of them.

"Let me go!"

The Wolf rolled his eyes, glared back at him, and then muttered, "Do you _not_ want to eat today?"

Hansel fell silent, stomach grumbling, before whispering, "But I want to _walk_."

"So does Peter… So…" Turning, the Wolf came over to him, bent to peer into his face, "What do you want to eat?"

"…Anything but sugar and flour… Please…" moaned Hansel, forgetting plans of revenge momentarily as his stomach sent an impulse to his mind.

"Okay… Only if you tell me where that witch of yours is."

Hansel grew furious. His captor had been asking him that every few minutes the day before! "I'm not going to tell you! Morgan's my witch! My slave!"

"And slavery is illegal here." The Wolf tapped his nose, "So tell me where your witch is so I can go ask her how to save Red."

Hansel pursed his lips, glowered at the Wolf, and then snarled, "If I tell you, will you let me go and give me back my gun?"

"Yes."

"And you'll promise not to let Morgan free?"

"Of course! I don't a witch running about! I just want to know more about this memory eater thing. What about the mirror? If we find the person who made the mirror, we find the person who created the water monster, and hence the memory eater, and maybe he can help us stop it."

"Hmm? Go after the mirror maker? What use would that be?" Hansel bared his teeth.

"She might know how to break the mirror. Wouldn't that kill the memory eater? Didn't the mirror create the water monster, which created the memory eater? So, if we kill the monster, we kill the eater?"

"…I'm not sure if that would work." Grumbled Hansel uneasily.

"Okay… Fine… Don't tell me where your witch is. We'll just wait, and then the memory eater won't need Red, and she'll be eaten. Do you want that?" The Wolf cuffed Hansel over the head.

"No!"

"Then tell me!" The Wolf wagged a finger in the bound man's face.

Hansel snapped at the Wolf's finger, missed, and then grumbled, "Fine… I'll tell you."

* * *

When Red woke up, the memory eater was nudging her softly, "Girl memory wake? Want to take out. Wake?"

With a moan, Red pushed his snout away, buried her head back into her arms, "Stop it… I'm tired…"

Indignant, the memory eater hissed, "Wake! Wake! Want to take out!"

"No… Let me sleep…"

Growling, the beast grabbed her up, hugged her to his chest as she squeaked angrily, and limped on three legs to the opening. He squeezed through before dropping her into the snow, watching her as she sputtered up out of the drift. "_Want_ to take out. I master. You follow."

Red glared at him fiercely, brushing snow from her clothes, shivering, "Fine! Be a stubborn, stupid monster! I'll go, but I hate you!"

Startled, the memory eater contemplated this, the words running sluggishly through his simple mind, and grunted, "Not stupid."

"You are!" Red sat down in the snow, crossed her arms, and pouted.

The memory eater's spines flared in fury as he bristled, "Not stupid! Very smart! Opposite! Girl stupid! Girl won't follow!"

"That's because I'm tired and I'm hungry and-" Red broke down, started to sob.

Spines instantly laying down flat as he regarded her, the memory eater cocked his head before laying down, scooting forward on his stomach, and nudging her with the tip of his nose, "Why water?"

"I don't want to be your slave!" cried Red, putting her face into her hands. "I want to go back home and sleep in a warm bed and not have to eat pine cones! I want to see Peter and Hansel and the Wolf and Bo and Blue and- Get away from me!" She shoved the beast away as he nuzzled her gently.

The memory eater gazed at her before putting his head down in the snow, waiting for Red to stop crying with the most wistful expression on his face. When the sobs finally began to wind down, turning to hiccups, he whispered, "I take memory, find food for memory so no water?"

"Fine…" sniffled Red sullenly.

"Memory come? Memory ride?" The memory eater wriggled forward, his spines on his back retracting slowly into his skin. "Memory no have to walk. Ride. Feel good after. Make better."

Red smiled solemnly, "Can't I just stay here? It's _cold_…"

The memory eater peered at her with somewhat innocent black eyes, "Why? If cold here, cold there. No matter. I take." He reached forward to grab her, dragged her to him, and then reached over his shoulder to drop her onto his back. He waited for her to readjust herself before standing, stretching, and starting off through the trees.

* * *

Red was horrified when she saw the first few houses of the town appear, tried to talk the memory eater into turning back and hunting in the woods, but the monster would not hear of it.

"Easy memory here. Good hunt, little time. Easy swallow too."

The memory eater strayed to the western side of town, prowled along the alleys, and finally found Blue's dad's tavern. Shivering with eager delight, he whispered, "Many memories here. Girl memory, men memory, food memory… Good memories."

Red stared helplessly at the tavern. "Please don't…"

Suddenly, she lay in the snow, and the memory eater ordered, "Stay. I eat, come back and you eat after. _Stay_."

Red had half the mind to start screaming to alert the people in the tavern, but thought better of it when the memory eater bared his teeth in a silent threat. Slowly, she nodded.

"Good. Stay. I eat." The memory eater slowly faded to mist.

* * *

Blue was peeling carrots in his father's tavern's kitchen, humming sadly. That morning, his father had cuffed him around the ears for dropping a whole flagon of the_ best_ gin, and he was now stuck to the kitchen, peeling vegetables, doing the chore boy's work. He should have been out there, running orders, taking food and drink to guests, but he was restricted from that now…

Sighing, Blue put the now peeled carrot onto a cutting board, wiped the knife clean of orange shavings, and began to slowly slice it into small pieces. What a mess he had gotten himself into, just over a stupid pitcher of gin!  
Glancing up as he felt warmth on his back, he turned, sighed when he saw the fireplace steaming hot mist into the room. He walked over, poked at the pot that was nested among the coals with the metal stick that was made for just the reason, and grimaced. It wasn't even bubbling over; where was the vapor coming from?

Sighing, he turned, returned to the carrots, and then threw the knife down in frustration. He stormed to the door, opened it, and stomped out.

The midday crowd of hunters, shopkeepers, and schoolboys had come, one of the busier parts of the day. Side-stepping a hurrying waiter, Blue made his way to his father, who was angrily flipping through a boy's papers at the bar. "You're not twenty-one!"

"I am! Do the subtraction!" the boy pleaded. "I turned twenty-one yesterday!"

"I'm not serving you!" snarled Blue's father, pushing back the papers. "Come back with your mother!"

Huffing, the boy turned, stomped away, only to have his seat taken by Blue. Leaning over the counter, Blue pleaded, "Father… Please… Let me take orders… I can't slice carrots for beans!"

"I say you can't! Carrot chunks everywhere in the soup!" Blue's father slapped his playfully over the head. "Come now, the chore boy's been making a horror of things. Find him, tell him to go back to the kitchen."

Blue slumped in relief, "Thank you!" Turning, he scurried through the crowd.

It only took a few minutes to find the chore boy. Stopping him as he stumbled through the crowd, Blue whispered, "Go back to the kitchen."

Red-faced in humiliation, rum dripping down the front of his shirt, the chore-boy shoved the tray into Blue's hands, rushed to the kitchen door, yanked it open, disappeared inside.

"Waiter boy! Where's my soup?" came a shouted snarl.

Startled, Blue swore lightly under his breath. The chore boy had not told him any of his orders. Rather angry, he stormed towards the kitchen door, intent on finding out who was waiting for food, who was becoming angry because they were waiting for food, and who was just about to storm out because no food came to them! He pulled the door open roughly, glared in, "Luke, what the heck are the ord-" He froze.

The memory eater glanced up, the chore boy's arm hanging from his mouth. With a small snarl, he took a threatening step towards Blue.

Shrieking, Blue threw his tray at the monster, slammed the door shut, and, turning, ran straight into his father. Surprised, his father grabbed his shoulders, hissed, "What are you doing? Did I just see you _throw_ something?"

"There's- there's-there's a… m-m-m-monster." Blue struggled against the hands of his father, wanting to run as far away from the door as possible.

"A monster?" scoffed his father. "There's no such things as mons-"

The door to the kitchen slammed off of its hinges, knocking both Blue and his father down, and the memory eater slowly slid through, hissing. The spines running down his back and sticking up from his shoulder blades made small clicking noises as they screeched along the door jamb. The tavern's noisy uproar died away instantly, all eyes fixed upon this monster. Not a person moved, startled at this new thing that had come into their midst. The only noise was the snort of an old drunk in the corner, "Bloody gin, I'm seeing things again!"

The exclamation set things into motion. Immediately, the hunters shouldered muskets, the shopkeepers scurried under the tables, and the schoolboys started to scream. Blue was suddenly very happy that the hunters never paid attention to his father's rule of 'No firearms indoors'.

With the first crack of the gunfire, the memory eater balked as sharp pains pierced his head and chest. Snarling furiously, he lunged forward into the crowd, spines erect, claws lengthening to a dangerous, sharp length, and his teeth glittering with drool.

"The Wolf! The Wolf! The Wolf is back from the grave with a vengeance!" chanted the drunk, sipping at his beer.

Pulling Blue up, the father towed him along the wall and behind the bar, avoiding the splintering wood that flew everywhere and the broken glass that was being thrown about. "Blue! Stay here!" He grabbed a musket from under the counter, took the box of lead bullets and the powder horn, quickly packed it in, and then stood to aim and fire. The memory eater screeched as the bullet thudded into his eyes, oily, black blood spurting out as he brought up a paw to scratch at the pain. Trembling, suddenly blind and unable to see half of what was in front of him, he limped back, whining, whimpering, trying to be rid of this pain and sudden handicap. "No! No! No hurt!"

The hunters took the momentary pause to reload their muskets, lifted the guns again.

Seeing the hated thunder-sticks raised over his prey's shoulders, the memory eater immediately changed to his mist form, fled back into the kitchen and up the chimney.

For a few seconds, silence, and then the occupants of the tavern began to quietly buzz with excitement, quickly hurrying to the sides of the wounded to try to help.

Blue sobbed under the counter as his father coolly put the musket away. "Blue, stop crying."

"But… f-f-father! That… that was just a monster!"

"And we chased him away. Come now." Blue's father bent, gave Blue a quick, hesitant hug, and helped him up.

* * *

Red was startled when the memory keeper snapped into view before her, a paw clamped over his blinded eye, his other eye glittering with pain. Grabbing her, he pulled her back into the darker shadows of the alley, whimpered, "It hurts! Memories hurt me! Can't see! Make better!" He pulled her up to his face, let his paw drop away.

Red flinched when she saw the destroyed eye, the dripping black blood. "I can't make it better."

Furious, the memory eater threw her down, slumped down into the snow, and whined, "Can't see! Can't see! Boom-sticks hurt eyes, ears!"

Red stared at him before suggesting, "Maybe if you put snow on it…"

Large paw reaching out blindly, the memory eater grabbed some snow, cupped it to his eye, and then sighed with relief as the cold numbed the pain. "…Oh… Better…"

Red noticed the silver of forks and dinner knives stuck in the bottom of his paws. Sucking at her lip, she asked softly, "Don't your paws hurt?"

"Eye more. And stomach. Stomach hurt 'cause no memory. Lots of memory in house, but hurtful memory. Kill eye." The memory eater slowly stood, forcing his paw down from his eyes, revealing black, bloody snow, and then groaned, "You ride. We go home, you make feel good." He bent, his spines retracting, and offered his back to Red.

Red licked her lips, hesitating. In his condition, she might be able to escape him…

Hissing, the memory eater reached for her, "On!"

Red sighed, let him pick her up.

* * *

The Wolf stared at the bright, little cottage shop before glancing at Hansel, "This is where Morgan said the creator of the mirror was?"

Hansel was obviously struggling with the thought that Morgan might have lied to him, "If she lied, I'm going to _beat_ her… Just try the door."

The Wolf nodded, thinking back to Peter, who was asleep in bed at Red's house. Licking his lips, he went up to the door, twisted the knob, found it unlocked, and peered inside.

Books were _everywhere_: laying on the counters, scattered cross the floor, hanging from the ceiling, and even making the little desk that supported the small money basket. Blinking, a bit surprised, the Wolf called, "Hello?"

"Oh! Yes?" A squeaky voice came before a large, rotund _egg_ came waddling around a pile of books. Across his middle was a large cloth belt, padded to protect his white fragile skin. Below, some silk hose that showed short, squatty legs. Waving at the Wolf happily, the egg asked, "Here to buy a book, sir?"

The Wolf stared before turning, mouthing at Hansel furiously, "There's a _talking_ egg!"

"Oh? Humpty-Dumpty?" Hansel scrambled up, shoved Wolf out of the way, and peeked in eagerly. "Mr. Dumpty?"

"Oh! Hansel! How are you? Come here, boy, and give an old friend of your father's a hug!"

Hansel grimaced, sullenly came up, and, bending, gave the hug as asked.

"What are you here for Hansel? Come to buy a book?" Humpty-Dumpty grabbed a book from the stack, dusted off the cover so he could see the title, smiled, "This one's rather bland for your tastes, dear boy. Always was stories of the warring front that interested- Who's that?" He peered around Hansel inquisitively at the Wolf, who had stepped in and was now inspecting a picture book hanging from a string.

"…A friend." Grunted Hansel before sighing and asking, "And we have a question… I have a friend who… bought a mirror, and she said-"

"Oh, yes!" Humpty-Dumpty clapped his hands, turned, and waddled to his desk made of books. Pulling up a stool, he pulled himself up, steadied himself, and then began to shove hardbacks and paperbacks to the floor, "Yes, yes! I had a book girl who made those mirrors. Pretty little things, really golden and dastardly cheap. She sold them on the side besides helping me with the books!"

"What girl?"

"Oh, oh, oh! Looking to buy one of her mirrors, are you?" Humpty-Dumpty smiled slyly, "Or are you looking for her for more… _personal_ reasons?"

"Personal."

"Well, I can tell you were she lives… She might not live there anymore, though…. If she's still there, tell her that I say a 'hello', agreed? She lives… Do you know where the old wishing well is? The one that's boarded up?"

"Yes?"

"She lives right by there. Can't miss it. Beautiful little house."

Hansel nodded, turned, and then paused when he saw the Wolf lay the book down before Humpty-Dumpty. "I would like to buy this one, please."

Humpty-Dumpty blinked before hurrying down his stool, bending, wiping his hand under the ledge of the counter, and drawing out some eyeglasses. Fixing them onto his nose before mounting the stool once more, he held out his hands, "Book please."

The Wolf handed him the picture book, and Humpty-Dumpty glanced over it before smiling, "_The Touchy-Feely Book_? Very nice book. I love the little animals in here, 'cause they have pieces of fur and wool pasted over them to make them more realistic. For a son? A daughter?" He smiled at the Wolf.

"My son."

"Ah! Very good present! Half a penny, please."

The Wolf dug a hand to his pocket, withdrew a penny, and put it down, "You can keep the other half."

Blinking, Humpty-Dumpty nodded, "Well, thank you, sir."

"You're welcome." The Wolf took up his book, smiled, and turned to see Hansel glaring at him. Instantly wary, he asked, "What?"

"You're buying a _book_ for your _blind_ son?"

"He can at least feel the pictures… It'll occupy him." The Wolf smiled softly, stroking the cover of the book.

Snorting, Hansel turned, stomped to the door, and exited, leaving the Wolf and Humpty-Dumpty to stare after him.

* * *

The memory eater paced around the cave, avoiding the strips of sunlight that peeked in from the holes in the ceiling, staying to the shadows, muttering, fuming, _hating_. His eyes still pained him, and he had tried several more times to extract the 'not hurting' feeling from Red, but it wouldn't come to his eye for some reason. Turning, he swatted at a rock, sending it rolling across the ground. He glared at it before grumbling, laying down, and hissing under his breath, "Stupid memories. Just wanted memory for stomach… No have to hurt…"

Red watched him, busying herself by rearranging her 'bed' of leaves and lichen. Sighing, she sat down, "Well… you could have listened to me, hunted in the forest."

"Those little memories. Take long time to grow on little memories. Need _big_ memories… Like you." The memory eater glanced at her slyly. If she couldn't make pain go away from his eye, what good was she to him?

Red saw the hungry glint, hurriedly asked, "How are your paws?"

"Hurtful."

"I can take the metal out."

Instantly, all thoughts of eating her disappeared. Tail wagging, spines erecting with pleasure, he lumbered over, plopped down, and extended a paw, "Do."

Red spent five minutes easing silverware and wood from his paws, earning little yelps from the memory eater whenever she wriggled one the wrong way. Afterwards, as he drew back his paw to lick the blood away, extending the other hurt one to her, the monster murmured, "I like girl memory. Girl make hurt go away, but not eye. Why?"

"Because that was too serious for me to," Red grimaced, "make better."

The memory eater contemplated this, good eye peering at her thoughtfully before he smiled, moaned, "But you do for belly and paw, yes?"

"Yes, I can make your belly and your paws feel better." Muttered Red, rolling her eyes. She pushed his paw away, finished pulling forks, knives, and splinters of polished wood from it.

Rolling over and around, the memory eater displayed the pads of his rear paws, which had significantly less debris stuck in them. Red pursed her lips, but stood to start pulling the splinters out.

As she relieved the hurt in his paws, the memory eater snuggled down, moaned drowsily, "I like… Mm…" He twitched, making Red pause, and then murmured, "After… sleep… Yes?"

"Okay…" Red grimaced as she yanked out the last fork, paused after throwing it down, and then gently stroking the bottom of the rough pad. How could a monster be so childishly minded and also so… destructive?

Shivering with delight, the memory eater curled up, grabbed Red, and hugged her to his chest like a child clutching a small teddy bear. "Sleep good. Tomorrow, eye be better, I get you food, I get memory to fill stomach, and then sleep again. Why sleep?" He seemed to be joking about the last part as he nuzzled her, his wet nose cold against her warm skin.

"'Cause sleep is good for you." Yawned Red, wriggling, trying to be away from the great jaws, the cold nose, and the gashed eye.

The memory eater suddenly grew somber and annoyed, "No move."

Red stopped moving, and the monster licked her gently before whispering, "Good girl."


	46. Not Hansel

Hansel gazed at the old wishing well, remembering how he would always come before those shooting contests he was so fond of when he was younger and throw a penny in. He had stopped doing such silly things after Gretel had passed away, but just seeing it brought a little feeling of yearning to his chest.

"Hansel? What are you doing?"

Blinking, Hansel spun around, hurried after the Wolf, who watched him suspiciously. Coming side to side with his temporary 'partner', he grimaced, "Sorry about that. Just thinking about something."

"Obviously. Now… Since I went into the bookstore before you, you have to go before me here." The Wolf bowed playfully, motioned with a hand.

Hansel regarded the overgrown, dark grove that lay between them and the perfect little cottage at the end of the stretch of muddy grass. There was obviously water under the vegetation, making a little bog, and Hansel grimace. "You just don't want to go first because it looks scary."

"I don't want to go first because we might be going to see a _witch_ who makes mirrors that kill people." The Wolf's ears laid back. "And you've hunted witches, I would guess."

"I had a demon stone. It's different." Hansel bent, rifled through the grass, and found a decent-sized stone. With a small sigh, he threw it into the midst of the bog, watched it plop down into the water and sink down. "Well… I guess the bog's a natural one."

"… You know, I never thought that water could kill me before…" The Wolf started forward.

"Well… I wouldn't put anything past a witch, even if it was a good one." Hansel followed the Wolf, glancing suspiciously about. He knew enough to never be caught off-guard, especially in unfamiliar places where there might be witches.

Stumbling and flinching as his foot slid into a hidden puddle under the long grass, the Wolf muttered, "But I guess we're going to have to go through this water and hope it's not some monster."

Hansel nodded, glaring back and forth as he sloshed into the water.

There was nothing, no bird song, no insect hum, no anything. In a bog, there should have been all of those, and this put Hansel on edge. Slowly, he reached up over his shoulder, slid his musket from its strap, and carefully, silently loaded it.

Pausing, the Wolf glanced at him, "What are you doing?"

"Being ready, just in case." Hansel put his finger to the trigger, sloshed forward. Should something pop out, he'd be able to swing his musket up and fire within the second.

"As long as you don't shoot me…" grumbled the Wolf, turned, and continued to wade through the water, which was now at waist height. However, when he took his fifth step, something crunched under his foot, he froze, and then reached down to feel under the water. With a look of confused distaste, he pulled up a cracked skull, regarded it, and then murmured, "Hansel… Please tell me that the water isn't going to eat me just because I'm standing in it."

"I don't think it's that kind of thing…" Hansel turned, backed up against the Wolf, and whispered, "Just keep walking. Traps would be later."

"You walk in front then."

"I will, if you want, but you have to keep looking behind me, tell me if you hear or see anything I don't." Hansel shoved past him, hefted his gun, and stepped forward, swinging it around to see if there was any monster waiting to pounce upon them.

The Wolf shivered, fur standing on end, and glanced about, "Should we really be doing this? I mean… we might be walking into bad stuff here…"

"It's to save Gretel. If we can figure out how to kill the thing or get the demon stone out of it, we'll be good to go." Hansel paused when he felt a bone crack beneath his foot before motioning to the Wolf, "Water stops here. This is where'll the traps will be: on land." He stepped up onto the dirt.

The next second, Hansel lay under the Wolf, who stared at the spear that quivered where Hansel had just stood. Gulping, he rolled off of the huntsman, whispered, "Nasty traps."

"Won't stop there… So… there's spears… Lord, I wished I brought some rocks."

"…Why don't witches just use magic to smite you dead?"

"Can't do that. There's some rule that says you can't kill a person directly with magic, but you could use it indirectly to. So… if I were a witch, I couldn't just point at you and strike you dead; I would have to curse you, which would _eventually_ lead to your death."

"Still unfair. So that's why they use spears and stuff?"

Hansel was poking the ground in front of him with the butt of his musket, "Yep. Lots of those and bear traps."

As to illustrate his point, a hidden trap clapped up onto the stock of the musket, gouging small parts of the wood out. Grimacing, Hansel put his boot to it, slid it off of the stock, and grumbled, "If you could find a stick and help me, that'd be nice."

The Wolf stared at the trap before saying weakly, "I'm scared to step now."

"Then don't. I'll find them all." Hansel began to prod the ground again, slowly taking a step, digging the stock of the musket into it, and taking the next after making sure there was no trap.

The Wolf followed him, his tail curled up between his legs, "I hate traps… Did I ever tell you I was caught in a trap when I was really, really, really little? I hung upside down for such a long time… And then the hunter came, and he let me go because I was just a little wolf and he had wanted a rabbit or something. Oh… I was so _scared_… That's why I utterly," He flinched as there was another snap of a trap closing, "hate traps."

Hansel slid the metal trap off, grunted, "Well, I'm the same, except for witch's traps… You know what they do? They set traps, wait for people to stumble into them, and then kill them, cook them, and eat them. Utterly disgusting. Me and Gretel were lucky to not run into a trap-witch."

"Trap-witch… Ha…" The Wolf smiled glumly, "You even gave them a name…"

"Yes, I- Look out, more water. We'll be safe from bear traps for a while." Hansel slid down into the water, took a step, and then froze when he saw the house flicker in front of them, only twenty or so feet away.

The small jerk of his arm was the only thing that saved his life. The spear struck the musket's barrel, fell into the water. Staring at it, suddenly not breathing, Hansel slowly glanced back at the Wolf, who was frozen with surprise.

"…I'm staying _behind_ you." Hissed the Wolf, sliding down behind him.

Hansel gulped, lowered himself lower into the water till it was only his head showing. Keeping the musket's stock in front of his face, he began to trudge forward, his feet barely touching the bottom. The Wolf grumbled, dove under the water, thinking he would be safer if he didn't show his head to whatever or whoever was throwing the spears.

Suddenly, Hansel was lifted out of the water, the Wolf gasping for air beneath him. Yelping, Hansel found himself shoved back on shore, the Wolf scrambling after him, "Out of the water! Out of the water!"

Just as his tail cleared the water, something large and dark lunged out of the water, snapping its jaws angrily. The Wolf grabbed Hansel by the hair, dragged him back.

The monster, its iron-gray scales clicking as it shifted, glowered at them, angry that its prey had cheated it out of a meal. Hansel stared at it, ignoring the pain that throbbed where the Wolf had grabbed him by the hair, "I hate this… We can't go past it, and we need to get to that… house thing…"

The thing clicked its jaws at them, took a sluggish step forward.

The Wolf tugged Hansel up, whispered, "It can't move that fast on land… So... How about I distract it and you go ahead?"

"That's a swell idea." Hissed Hansel sarcastically, staggering up.

"But first give me your gun."

"What? Why?" Shocked, Hansel glowered at him.

"So I can hit the ground and make sure there're no traps, stupid!"

"Ah! No! You can't take my-" Hansel shivered softly as he glanced back, saw the scaly monster crawling towards them, and then thought better of it. Thrusting his musket into the hands of the Wolf, he turned, began to slowly circle around.

The monster eyed him, licked its scaly lips, and then began to follow him. However, it stopped when it saw the Wolf step forward, spreading his arms wide. It thought for a moment before starting for the Wolf, going for the bigger prey.

The Wolf stepped away from Hansel, patting the ground behind him with the barrel of the musket, "Come here, you ugly thing… You want to eat me," He felt something snap onto the end of the musket barrel, hurriedly kicked off the trap.

Hansel dove into the water, suddenly immersed in a blue world. He could see mirrors on the bottom, dull and blurred with water and scratches from sand. He swam downwards before gasping when he saw a mirror darken. Around it, the water began to slowly swirl, solidify.

With a snarl, Hansel grabbed up a rock from the bottom, smashed the surface of the mirror with it. Instantly, the mirror next to it began to darken. The glass shattered under Hansel's rock, and he groaned when he saw more darkness coming to the other mirrors. Quickly, he swam for the other shore. Behind him, four water creatures solidified and hissed before chasing him, determined to protect the mirrors that created them. With a final burst of energy, Hansel burst from the water, scrambled up the beach, and quickly ran from the shore as the four beasts emerged, snarling and biting at the air. A spear whizzed past his head, but Hansel fell to his knees, ducking it, and scrambled to the door of the house.

The instant he touched it, the monsters froze before screeching loudly and shattering.

The Wolf stared at the shards of glass that had been his monster. Sniffing, he stepped forward, "Can I come forward?"

"Stay there. I'll…see whatever is behind this." Hansel took the knob, swung it open.

The Wolf watched him vanish inside.

* * *

That evening, Red awoke from her nap to find the memory eater primping himself up, licking off dirt, slowly scraping away ragged flesh, skin, and gore from his eye socket, and happily eating whatever scabs stayed on his claws. When he finally saw Red watching him, he blinked, smiled, "Sleep good?"

"Very well, thank you."

Groaning happily, the memory eater reached down, petted his stomach, and murmured, "Eat lots of memory. Very good, delicious. Feels good. Not bad, though."

Red grimaced, "Well, I'm glad you're happy."

"I bring good food for girl memory."

Red's stomach growled just at the mention. Sniffing, she stood, yawned, and asked, "What did you bring?"

The memory eater licked his lips, eyed her slyly, "I bring good food."

"_What_ did you bring?"

"You like to see?"

"Yes."

Grinning widely, spines flaring with delight upon his back, the memory eater leapt up to the hole, squeezed out. A few minutes passed, and Red finally heard little scrabbling noises from the tunnel. She glanced up, waited.

The memory eater appeared, a small rucksack in its jaws. Leaping down, it circled her before dropping it, sitting, and grinning proudly, "I get good food this time."

Red bent, peered inside the rucksack, and smiled. Bread, cheese, apples, even a small flagon of cider. "Where did you get this?"

"Wanderer." Sniffed the monster, leaning back on his hind paws, resuming his careful grooming.

Red frowned up at him before taking the round of cheese, peeling a piece of rind off, and nibbling the whitish interior. Only then did she realize that the memory eater's single eye was on her. She gazed up at him before asking softly, "What?"

"…What that?"

"It's cheese."

"Bite?"

Red pursed her lips, began to peel off the rind, and piled the little pieces of edible mold to the side. She pointed at it, "There."

Growling happily, the memory eater leaned forward, licked up the cheese rind scraps, and mulled over the taste before smacking his lips, "Good!"

"Glad you like it." Red took a small bite from it, watching the memory eater eye it hungrily.

"Another bite?"

"It's my food. You already ate the poor traveler."

"I eat, but I hunger more." The memory eater lay down, placed his head in front of her, and opened his jaws wide, allowing a whiff of rancid breath to momentarily stun Red. "I eat lot."

Red glared at the wet, black throat before ripping the cheese in half and tossing one of the halves into the cavernous mouth. Instantly, the memory eater snapped his jaws shut, turned, and slinked to the his little corner, where he spat the cheese out, cut it in half with a claw, and, with his other paw, drilled a small hole in the floor. Dropping a part in, he covered it with dirt before swallowing down the other part.

Red watched him with curiosity distracting her from her food. "What are you doing?"

"Store." The memory eater trotted back over, lay down, and curled up around her with a satisfied moan, "Now, sleep time, but just wake… Not tired…" He rolled onto his back, stared at the ceiling, and then shuddered, "Tomorrow, I kill man who killed eye."

Red glanced back, startled, and then hurriedly squeaked, "But you'll get hurt again!" If the monster thought he'd lose his other eye, then maybe he wouldn't go.

"I have secret plan." The memory eater smiled maliciously. "I use secret plan and eat memories 'fore they hurt."

Blood chilling in her veins, Red asked slowly, "What… is your secret plan?"

The memory eater stroked his bloated belly gently, smilingly lovingly at the bulge that rose from his abdomen. "Not tell. Bad luck."

Red gulped.

With a small grumble, the memory eater reached over, grabbed up Red, and dragged her up onto his stomach. Dropping the bag by her, he murmured, "Eat there."

Red couldn't argue. His fur, which was soft after his grooming, was a welcome softness compared to the hardness of the sandstone floor. Nodding, she took the bread from the bag, took a bite.

The memory eater watched her before moaning, "Bite?"

Red couldn't help but cast a withering glare at him, "If you eat too much, your stomach hurts, and I have to hug you… Aren't you _full_?"

"Don't know." The memory eater reached up, began to stroke her hair with a look of fascination upon his face. Finally, he asked, "Why the color of dirt?"

"Just the way it is."

"Want to be color of dirt, me." The memory eater sighed longingly.

Rolling her eyes, Red nibbled at one of the apples.

"No want?" The memory eater had seen her eyes.

"I don't think you'd look that good."

"Hmm?" Cocking his head, the monster peered up at her.

"I just don't… think it would _suit_ you."

"Would not… suit?"

"No."

"Ah…" The memory eater slowly rolled over, causing Red to squeak as she tumbled down to the hard floor. Curling around her with a soft moan, the monster picked her up, put her on his tail so she would have a cushion of sorts, and then rested his head on the tip of his tail. "So… black _suits_?"'

"Yes, black suits you." Red laid down on the tail, drowning herself in the long, black fur.

The memory eater thought before straining his neck forward to give her a warm lick, "Dirt suits you."

Red grimaced, wiped slime from her hair, and grumbled, "Well, thank you…"

* * *

The Wolf sat sullenly on the edge of the pool of water, letting his paws stir the water gently. Hansel had disappeared inside four hours before… Why was it taking him so long?

Ears perking as a small noise, he glanced behind him, saw a small rabbit hopping tentatively to the edge of the first stagnant pool of water. Eyeing him fearfully, it tentatively bent, licked at the water, and then turned to bound away.

Even the small, mindless animals knew this place housed evil, so what was he doing here?

Something brushed against his feet. Flinching, he glanced down to see a small black eel winding around his foot, hissing softly. With the butt of the rifle, he pushed it off and watched it shatter as it sank. The mirrors had laid off on their aggression, only making small eels and salamander-sized versions of the water creatures that would bump blindly into the Wolf's feet, only annoying him to a certain extent.

Reaching down as another eel swam up, intending to wrap around his foot, the Wolf caught it up, held it in his hands as he inspected it curiously. After a few moments, he threw it over his shoulder, heard the tinkle of glass as it shattered against the ground.

The next moment, a full-sized water creature rocketed up from the water, knocked him back, and hissed at him. Staring at it, the Wolf grumbled, "Fine… I won't put my feet in the water…"

Calming, the water creature slid back down into the water, vanished.

The Wolf sat up, brushed grass and dirt from his coat, and then glanced eagerly up when he heard the click of a door. He saw Hansel stagger out of the house, clutching something to his chest, and called, "Hansel!"

Hansel turned confused, glazed eyes to him before blinking and whispering, "Wolf?" He stepped into the water.

Instantly, the water creature surfaced lazily before him, and grunted. Hansel stared at it before looping an arm over its back, letting it tow him to the other side of the small pool of water. The Wolf bent to help him out of the water, nodding to the water creature. Huffing happily, the creature slid down into the water, shattered.

As the Wolf help Hansel steady himself, he commented, "You look like death."

"I..." Whispered Hansel, staggering forward.

The Wolf ignored the whisper, yanked him back, "Hey, hey, hey! Aren't you forgetting about the traps?"

"They are illusions." Hansel took the gun from the Wolf, strapped it to his back, started forward. The Wolf gulped, stayed close behind him.

Hansel only managed to stay awake for another minute, collapsing in the middle of the first bog pond. Sighing, the Wolf dragged him up over his shoulder, grumbled, and started for home, casting no second glance at the boarded-up wishing well as he passed.

* * *

The Wolf reached Red's house around ten o'clock at night. As he crept through the alleys, Hansel still slumped over his shoulder, he could see a late lamplighter skittering through the streets, keeping his cap to his head in one hand, his lighting pole in the other. He stopped, lit the lamp in front of Red's house, scurried on to the next.

The Wolf scrambled to the front door, hastily let himself in, and then stood still for a moment, basking in the warmth of the house. After a few moments, he strolled down the hall, entered Red's bedroom, saw Peter fast asleep in the bed, his new book clasped tightly to his small chest.

Smiling, the Wolf laid Hansel on the carpet, crept onto the bed, and lay beside his son. He kissed Peter's forehead, whispered, "Don't worry, Peter… We're going to go get Red back tomorrow, okay?"

Peter's fur stood on end as he curled up with a sleepy murmur, "Mm… No…. I want… cake…" A little giggle rasped out of his throat before he brought his hand to his mouth and began to suck at his thumb.

The Wolf smiled lovingly, reached over, extracted the thin finger from Peter's mouth, and then eased the book from out of between his arms, glancing at the page that it had been kept open to. It showed a little barn, full of sheep, cows, and horses. Little bits of fur were carefully pasted over the pictures, and the Wolf sighed happily when he saw a few strands of Peter's blond fur stuck to the patches. Peter had probably enjoyed feeling it, imagining what the animals had looked like as he ran his little fingers across the textures of the book, smiling when he felt fur or felt.

Peter whimpered in his sleep, turned in his sleep, and then curled up next to his father, his little claws tangling in the gray fur. "…Papa…"

The Wolf grinned, chuckled softly. Peter knew his fur's feel even in his sleep…  
Sliding down beneath the covers, the Wolf hugged Peter to himself, whispered, "Don't worry, Peter… I'm here."

* * *

The next morning, the Wolf awoke to Hansel's dull murmurs and moans. Sitting up, he blinked wearily before glancing to the side of the bed, where Hansel was whispering into a small mirror the size of a palm. Around him were the empty jars where the moths had fluttered the night before.

"What are you doing?"

Glancing up, Hansel rasped, "Trying to see Gretel."

"See Red? What do you-" The Wolf stopped, noticing Hansel's eyes. Their icy blue had spread, glacier threads crisscrossing the white of his eyes, making it seem refracted. "…What… happened to your eyes…?"

Hansel couldn't seem to focus on any one thing. His eyes quivering, switching from the wall behind the Wolf to the bed spread and then to the inquisitive milky eyes that gazed down at him, he murmured, "Just till Gretel comes back…" He glanced back to the mirror, licked his lips, and then angled the mirror at the Wolf.

Inside, a perfect reflection of Hansel lay, still.

The Wolf's fur instantly fuzzed out, and, with a growl, he scooted back to block Peter from Hansel's gaze, "You're not Hansel!"

"I am his reflection. He gave himself up, but I must get Gretel back before returning to my mirror and filling my own pleasures." When he said 'pleasures', Hansel's face grew hungry, almost ravenous.

"What? Gave himself up?" The Wolf glanced worriedly back at Peter, wondering if the not-Hansel was safe.

"Someone must always be in the mirror." Whispered the not-Hansel. "If not… chaos for our world. But I will only be here till I find Gretel, and then I must return." He reached down into his pocket, drew out a battered white book, and placed it atop the sheets. "This will tell you things. My master will not let me read it, but I know the index."

The Wolf picked up the book, titled _Memory Eater_, and opened it warily. Instantly, words swirled across the page, ink running everywhere as it found its way to its proper place.

'Memory Eaters are pained by direct sunlight. They seek dark caves and holes generally, but will settle for buildings. Also, they fear their own reflection, loud noises, fire, but most of all-' Here, the ink was smeared. The Wolf sighed, continued, '_In the case of accidental demon-stone consumption_, the memory eater will become resistant to sun, but they'll retain their fears.'

"So… loud noises, reflection, fire, and something not named." The Wolf sighed, glanced at not-Hansel.

Twitching, not-Hansel licked his fingers, smeared some spit across the surface of the mirror, and then moaned happily when a picture flickered upon it. He turned it to the Wolf, revealing the peaceful face of Red as she slept.

The Wolf gazed at it before whispering, "Why did you have to be here?"

Not-Hansel grinned sharply, revealing long, unnervingly sharp teeth, "Page four."

The Wolf flipped to the fourth page, scanned the lines that scrambled across the page: 'Another mirror creature is able to manipulate the memory eater through mirrors; however, this will only work within a certain range (approx. 5-15 feet). This is questionable, however, for lack of experimentation, but it is known that a memory eater is able to merge with other mirror creatures in an attempt to become more powerful.'

The Wolf glanced inquisitively at not-Hansel, and the mirror creature held up his mirror, grinned, "My _special _mirror. I'll get the demon-stone out of the beastly creature with it. I just need enough time to… and I cannot be taken. You must not let me, or you will never get my original back and the traitor beast will be stronger than you are able to defeat. And this must not break…" He stroked the mirror lovingly, like a child with a pet.

The picture of Red changed back to the real Hansel, who slept on in his oblivion.

The Wolf shivered, "So… you'll get the demon stone out of him?"

"Yes, but I must eat first. I am not used to this place." Not-Hansel glanced about, licking his lips, "Do you have any _rats_?"

The Wolf shivered. A carnivorous Hansel? "Um… No…"

Not-Hansel sighed, "… Then I will go hunt."

"…I'll go too… I need to get some food for Peter… Maybe a rabbit or two…" The Wolf caressed Peter's head.

Not-Hansel nodded, "I will help, but I will need to eat one of them myself."

The Wolf shuddered, "Sure."

"I must also tell you that I did not have enough time to extract the information of how to shoot a gun from my original."

"Then-"

"But I can catch them myself. You will not have to help me." Not-Hansel bared his sharp teeth in predatory grin.

The Wolf fell silent, slightly frightened. He _hated_ mirror creatures! When this horror ended, he would go back home and break all the mirrors! No more mirrors anywhere near him, lest they be some evil, magic one! Oh, why did Hansel have to go and trade himself for one?


	47. Heart Eater

The memory eater crept down the street, his misty form rolling low on the ground, blending in with the little flurries of snow that puffed up in the slight wind. He delighted himself by taking the little snowflakes, chasing them around in himself, and then reminding himself that he was on a mission of revenge, not to be distracted by playful things like snowflakes.

Seeing the tavern, he stopped momentarily before sneaking towards the main door. As he neared, the door opened, revealing a shopkeeper's apprentice who scurried out and down the street, muttering, "Late, late, late! Oh! Mr. Dumpty will kill me!"

The memory eater slipped in through the door before it shut, slowly crept along the ground as a low, thick mist. Feet passed through him, but he was searching for the man who had shot out his eye, and, for that, he needed to see their face.

He heard a familiar voice, turned, and wormed across the floor. Finally, he found himself at the bar, where Blue's father was trying to teach his son about business.

"Look, Blue… Sometimes there's good publicity and bad publicity."

Blue grumbled, stirring a spoon at his apple cider, "Being attacked is publicity?"

"It is! And right now, we have so many more people coming in! Think of it! Only six deaths, seven wounded out of forty-seven! We fought off the creature too! What does that tell people? That they can trust us 'cause we got fighters here!" Laughing, Blue's father reached over and ruffled his son's hair.

Frowning, Blue asked, "But what about the dead people?"

Suddenly, the father was serious and grave, putting a hand to his chest as if trying to hide a mourning heart. "They are in a better place now, Blue. You have to believe that."

The memory eater imagined a smile, whispered in his mind, 'In my stomach'. Creeping forward, he found a small hole in Blue's trousers, crept up and in, and settled along the boy's skin. He would wait till closing time, when there was less people with boom-sticks, and then he would strike out against the father and son.

Blue shivered, feeling a sudden draft. Glancing back, he saw the door closed, the fire roaring, and frowned. Why was he cold? After a moment, he shrugged it off, turned back to his father as the man started off once again on his lecture.

So, having decided to wait, the memory eater settled down, fell to sleep in the darkness between cloth and skin.

* * *

The Wolf and not-Hansel had left Peter with his 'touchy-feely' book, toy animals, some cookies that the Wolf feared were a little too stale for his son's taste, and a little pail of water, should he be hungry or thirsty while they were off hunting. Not-Hansel kept the mirror clutched to his chest, the reflective side facing out. His refracted eyes shivered as he glanced about, seeming to note everything and nothing. Finally, unable to resist, the Wolf whispered, "Can you see right?"

Not-Hansel fixed a reflective glare at him, answered him with another question, "We've walked past five rabbits. Can _you_ see right?"

The Wolf bit his lip, stepped back. "Oh… okay… Um…"

"Thirty meters to your left. White, in the snow, and looks tasty." Not-Hansel grinned sharply, curved teeth glittering with eager drool.

Shivering, the Wolf turned so not-Hansel could not see his expression. Thirty meters? Could the mirror thing see through trees? "Um… I'll go get it."

"Verily, you will, except when you do not see it. I will go with you." Not-Hansel stepped to his side, causing the Wolf to force a nervous smile.

The next minute was spent creeping in the direction of the rabbit. As they neared, not-Hansel became more and more visibly excited, drool dripping down his chin and his breath growing ragged. Eyeing him, the Wolf asked hesitantly, "Are you… okay?"

"I want my first meal in this world…" whispered not-Hansel. "There is nothing to eat in the mirrors but rats and grasshoppers. By saying that, I really mean that those are the most dangerous things that I dare go after."

The Wolf suddenly had a very vivid idea that mirror grasshoppers and mirror rats were not very gentle and small creatures. "Are… they monsters?"

"Compared to your world's rabbits and rats, yes."

The Wolf shuddered, dropped down to all four paws, and then tried to push away the pictures of carnivorous grasshopper and rat monsters from his mind with the thought of a gentle, little rabbit who nibbled at grass shoots and flowers. "So… I chase?"

"May I?" Not-Hansel bent, turning the mirror so it faced a little to their left. His eyes gleamed before he turned it up to regard the reflection of the rabbit who was chewing at a small, dried leaf.

"…But… you don't have a gun."

"I don't need one. I have my hands and my teeth."

"…You can't catch a rabbit!"

Not-Hansel's eyes narrowed before he rasped, "Are you questioning me?"

"…But… You're human…"

Not-Hansel stared at him with a mild look of surprised disbelief before he whispered, "I must not forget that you do not know my world… I will show you what I am able to do. If I do not catch this, you may take the others."

The Wolf nodded slowly.

"Hold this." Not-Hansel pushed the palm-sized mirror into the Wolf's hands.

The Wolf took it, watched as not-Hansel crept forward through the snow towards where the rabbit was eating its leaf. Putting a bare hand in the snow, lowering himself to his palms and knees, not-Hansel crawled through the snow, froze when he saw the rabbit. The rabbit dug its head into the snow, sniffed around, and drew out another battered brown leaf that it nibbled at happily. The Wolf froze when he saw not-Hansel draw his lips back in a silent snarl, his bared black gums accenting his sharp, curved teeth. Suddenly, the rabbit glanced up, saw Hansel, froze.

For a few moments, they stared at each other, one's gaze that of a hungry predator, the other of a frightened, innocent animal.

The instant the rabbit made a move to jump, not-Hansel opened his jaws. A long black tongue whipped out, struck the rabbit, and, before it could recover from its surprise, wrapped around it and dragged it to the shivering mirror creature. Without a regard to its little squeaks of fear, its fierce struggle, not-Hansel opened his mouth wide, made a move to bite the rabbit's head off.  
The Wolf jumped forward, grabbed the rabbit, and yanked it out of the black tongue that held it captive. As not-Hansel snarled, eyes flashing in confused anger, the Wolf clutched the rabbit to his chest, staring at not-Hansel with angry and horrified eyes.

Not-Hansel retracted his tongue, snarled, "That is my meal!"

"I can't let you eat it just like that!" The Wolf couldn't keep a handle on his nerves. Thoughts scattered blindly around his head. The rabbit was innocent, and it deserved much better than to have its head chewed off by a mirror monster!

Not-Hansel drew himself up, trembling with hungry rage, "It is _food_."

"At least kill it in a decent way!"

Not-Hansel glared at him before nodding, "I will swallow it whole, if that's what you ask." He reached for the rabbit.

The Wolf stepped back, hugging the rabbit as he trembled, "No."

"Then snap its neck and give it to me." Not-Hansel's black tongue slid out of his mouth, flickering out then back in like a snake's tongue.

The Wolf shook his head, staring at not-Hansel's sharp teeth, his hungry eyes, and the dark veins that had started to spread up the neck. He suddenly wanted the rabbit to live, not be the lunch of this monster.

Seeing that the Wolf would not give it to him, not-Hansel sighed, turned, "Fine… You are obviously not going to have it for your meal… Let it go… I'll be able to find something small like a mouse to eat, maybe…"

Gulping, the Wolf dropped the rabbit, watched it bound away with fright adding speed to its jumps. He saw not-Hansel pause, stare after it longingly, and then turn back to bend down and pick up the discarded mirror. Brushing some snow from it, he began to whisper softly into it. The Wolf managed to hear the one-sided conversation: "Show me something small… A mouse… A simple mouse… That is all I want… A mouse…"

The mirror blurred before showing a small mouse. Instantly drooling, not-Hansel flicked his tongue against the mirror, growled when the glass stopped him, and then grumbled, "Stupid glass… Come now, Wolf… I want my mouse."

The Wolf scurried up to his side, staring at his face, his eyes, his mouth especially. "Um… Hansel thing?"

"Hmm?" came the unsatisfied grunt.

"...You said you… You're not human, are you?"

"… A human's reflection is not necessarily a human. We are what they are inside metaphorically."

"Then… Are you a… snake?" The Wolf grimaced. A snake was Hansel's reflection?

"Correct. I am a mirror snake." With his monotone voice, the Wolf couldn't tell whether not-Hansel was joking or not.

The Wolf felt sick to his stomach, decided to take him seriously. "Do… you make poison?"

"No."

"Oh… Good…" The Wolf sighed with relief, but edged away from him, just to be safe.

* * *

The memory eater had stayed with Blue for the day, was becoming agitated and hungry as the hours dragged on and on. He wanted desperately to leap out, solidify, eat _something_, gain memories, become more and more real, but more and more people filed it to see the broken chairs and dried blood stains before turning to order a drink or some food. The food was what really tormented the memory eater, especially the _cheese_. He remembered the half that his girl memory had given him, how delightful it had tasted, and began lusting for it more than anything else, but he forced himself to stay with Blue, promising himself a very good dinner if he would just wait. However, he was relieved when Blue spilled some chicken soup down his shirt, for he lapped up as much as he could, soaking it into his misty particles, and wishing for more.

Then, finally, Blue donned his coat and cap, waved his father goodbye, and started for home, a calm wind blowing up small tornadoes of snowflakes around his legs.

The memory eater could barely contain himself, ecstatic. He would wait till they reached the house, would solidify, eat the boy, devour whoever lived in the house, and then wait for the man who had shot his eye out to come home. What a perfect and delicious plan! He might even be able to take some food back to his girl memory, but the cheese was _his_ if there was any.

So, as Blue drew closer and closer to his home, the memory eater waiting impatiently under the boy's clothes in his mist form, the Wolf and not-Hansel were returning to Red's home.

The Wolf had managed to overcome his sickly feeling and had captured four rabbits, two for himself and two for Peter. Not-Hansel had been a bit more lucky, in a smaller way. He had found a den of hibernating mice, had packed them safely away in a small satchel he had pulled from his mirror, and was now snacking upon them as they walked through the snow.

A little mouse sliding down his throat, not-Hansel grunted happily, "Good hunt. Easy prey here. A bit small though." He burped softly before reaching into the satchel, drawing out another mouse, licking his lips, and sliding out his tongue to wrap it around the white speck of a creature. Retracting the long black coil into his mouth, he swallowed before shuddering with bliss, whispering, "But they have a whole new range of flavor."

Disgusted, the Wolf grimaced, "You're acting like they're candy."

"They are. I don't have to fight them, like back home, and they're oddly much tastier." Not-Hansel paused, rummaging his hand through his satchel, and then moaned, "And I ran out.""You've been eating them nonstop since you found them. They were bound to run out. We don't have a never-ending supply of mice and rats, you know."

"… But… They were so good." Opening the satchel, not-Hansel held it up, peered inside, making sure there wasn't some tiny mouse hiding in one of the folds. His stomach grumbled miserably.

The Wolf sniffed, turned his eyes away, and continued walking, "I could guess you think that way, but… mice? I would understand if it were chickens or geese or rabbits, but mice?" He shuddered, glanced down at the rabbits he had caught, and then sniffed, "If you're really hungry, I could give you one of my rabbits. How about it?" He glanced to his right.

Not-Hansel wasn't there.

Startled, the Wolf turned, gazed back down the street. All he saw were the small drifts of snow, the little whirlwinds that caused them to spiral up in a beautiful dance, and a boy, walking with his nose buried into the collar of his jacket, his eyes hidden under the heavy woolen cloth of his cap.

The Wolf's fur raised in slight remembrance. It was the boy from the tavern, the one who had showed interest in Red. What was his name? Blue, wasn't it?

He was about to turn about to look for not-Hansel when the familiar black coil whipped from the alley Blue was passing, wrapped around his throat, and yanked him inside before he could emit a squeak.

The Wolf stared in horror before dropping the rabbits, sprinting forward. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" he angrily swore to himself as he rounded the corner.

Not-Hansel had hidden himself in a snow drift, a small dark hole the only thing allowing the Wolf to see him. Even then, all he could see were the two icy-blue refracting eyes and the still feet of Blue's as he was slowly dragged to the hungry mirror man. Underneath the now unconscious boy's clothes, the memory eater was becoming agitated as he realized his dilemma. His day had just gone to pieces in the space of a single second. On one side was his original, the creature that he so envied, the thing he so wanted to become; on the other side, another mirror creature, which was currently trying to steal _his_ prey.

Furious, not realizing that the memory eater was so close by, the Wolf stepped forward and snarled, "Don't you dare!"

Not-Hansel grinned, pulling the boy's cap from his hair to bury his nose into the intoxicating scent of so many different smells mixed together: alcohol, carrots, meat, ginger, sweat, among many others. Slowly, he took a few strands of hair into his mouth, curled his tongue out to circle the boy's head, and pulled it closer.

The Wolf leapt forward, grabbed Blue's foot, and tugged back harshly, "No! You can't eat him!"

Not-Hansel hissed, grabbed the boy's shoulders with rough hands, "You wouldn't let me have a rabbit and I'm hungry!"

"You can have one of mine!" said the Wolf hurriedly, watching not-Hansel's mouth start to widen, "Don't you want a rabbit? Isn't that easier to swallow?"

Not-Hansel paused, mirrored eyes slightly confused, and then released the boy. Holding out a hand from beneath the snow, he growled greedily, "Give me."

The Wolf turned, hurried out of the alley, found the rabbits on the ground, and was just turning when heard a screech from behind him. Turning, he saw not-Hansel scramble from the alley, Blue under one arm, his mirror in the other. He was about call a furious question when the memory eater stalked from the alley, hissing loudly. Freezing, the Wolf stared until not-Hansel barreled past him, "Run! Run! Run!"

Turning, the Wolf raced after not-Hansel.

The memory eater growled, raced after them as a new plan formed in his mind. He would eat the boy, as his previous plan had been, but, instead of the occupants of a house or the man who shot out his eye, he would devour the mirror creature next. That would make him all the more powerful, all the more able to find the memories he needed. Finally, his original he would capture and keep until it came time to eat him, and then he would devour the Wolf and take his place in the world.

The plan made him warm inside, for it solved three problems: hunger, power, and, his final goal, becoming the Wolf.

Not-Hansel, running slightly ahead of the Wolf, suddenly turned, dove into an alley, and then slid into a thin two foot wide gap between the two buildings. The Wolf pounced after him, barely able to fit, but just happy to be somewhere he thought the memory eater could not fit. With a snarl, the memory eater slammed into the buildings, one clawed paw reaching out into the gap, trying to reach the Wolf, Blue, and not-Hansel. Scooting back, the Wolf hastily handed off the rabbits to not-Hansel, who smiled ecstatically, and hissed, "Hold these."

"Pleasurably."

"And give me that mirror!" The Wolf reached for not-Hansel's mirror.

Not-Hansel jerked, eyes widening, and then let go of Blue to curl up around his mirror, "No!"

"The thing's scared of its reflection! Give me it!"

"No!" Not-Hansel sobbed, trying to bring a rabbit to his mouth so he could eat it while protecting his little mirror.

The Wolf waited till he had started swallowing down the rabbit before cuffing him violently on the head, snatching the mirror away, scrambling up, and turning with it upheld. The instant the memory eater saw it, he howled and cowered, backing away, spines raising to their fullest as he shivered. Every time the Wolf moved towards him, the reflection would come nearer, and it was suddenly not a good idea to go after the three.

Seeing the memory eater back away, hesitating, shaking with fright, the Wolf bared his teeth and snarled, "Hansel! Can't you do your 'take out the demon stone' thing now?"

Not-Hansel, spitting out the rabbit, held his hand out angrily, "If you hadn't stolen it!"

The instant the Wolf turned his reflection away, the memory eater lunged for the two, who had crawled out from their protective gap. Knocking the Wolf over, he hissed, turned to the mirror Hansel, and growled softly. Not-Hansel, suddenly very calm, adjusted the mirror on the ground in front of him, whispering. Heedless as the memory eater crept nearer and nearer, he finally opened his mouth, flicked his tongue through the mirror.

A piercing pain struck the memory eater's heart, and he yelped before clasping his chest, staggering. Not-Hansel snorted, withdrew his tongue from the mirror, inspected the blood on it, and then muttered, "Stupid anatomy."

Suddenly terrified, the memory eater turned and ran, his heart aching, his stomach empty, and his mind wild with humiliation and fear. He would rather not fight with another mirror creature who could show him his reflection and reach through the mirror to hurt his heart!

* * *

The memory eater arrived at his small cave within the hour, having slowed down to mewl and cry and caress his aching chest. He had come across no scurrying rabbits or bounding deer, so his stomach clenched in hunger as he sullenly made his way up to the cave's entrance. Not only did he have no food for himself, but none for his girl memory. Would she be hungry? Angry at him?

Moaning, he pulled himself through the small hole sluggishly, lay down in the entrance, and groaned, "Girl memory… I hurt…"

When no answer came, he opened his one good eye, glanced wearily down. After a few seconds, he froze, fur raising on end when he saw no girl waiting for him. Instantly, fury raced up into his chest, into his throat, and he roared angrily as he jerked himself back out of the cave's entrance.

* * *

Red had spent all of her day trying to escape, had finally been able to clamber up to the hole and hurry out to the snow. Compared to the somewhat warm interior of the cave, the cold air had shocked her, but she had brushed it off, for she was now free. All she needed to do was somehow find her way back to town. Trudging through the snow, following the river, Red shivered, wishing she had stayed in the cave. Drafts from the rushing water buffeted her skin, raising goose bumps, and she was shivering violently as it was. Why was the winter stretching on? Couldn't it just melt? It was February, for goodness sake! It should have started to warm up just a little!

Red shuddered, slid down next to a tree, and kicked the snow away from her body. Why hadn't she grabbed the Wolf's fur coat? She would have given pretty much anything for it right now, to be away from this nasty, icy feeling that invaded her skin.

Suddenly, a small black bird winged past, chirping in agitation, "Danger! Danger! Danger!"

Red stared after it before standing, hurrying, and, seeing a rotting log, falling to her knees and crawling inside. Just as her foot disappeared into the hollow, the memory eater stalked into view, fuming, stopping every few steps to place a hand against his stomach and moan. His anger had died down to simple misery.

"Girl… Why girl leave…? Girl mine…" With a groan, he slumped down into the snow, turned to his back, and massaged at his chest, trying to rid his heart of both the physical and mental ache. "…Girl not like?"

Red stared, gulping, willing for him to move on.

Rolling over, laying on his stomach, the memory eater sniffed at the snow sadly, letting the cold kill his nose. For some reason, he suddenly wanted to die. This was not how things were to be. He was supposed to have his meals, his power, his pleasures, but this world was slowly mounting a defense, even calling other mirror creatures out against him. What would they take after his eye? What would they harm after his heart?

Suddenly, he felt the mounting urge to vomit, staggered up, and retched out black blood onto the white snow, which melted almost instantly. Once done, he moaned, crawled away, and curled up, shivering. He felt so powerless, so wronged, and his mind just had to keep going back to his girl memory. He wanted her to come back and comfort him, wanted her to appear and take care of him.

Red watched in horrified surprise as the memory eater began to slowly shrink, his fur falling in patches, his spines turning into brittle icicles and shattering. In only a minute, the memory eater shivered on the ground, moaning, looking like a frail, starving version of the Wolf. She blinked, turned her head to the puddle of vomit. He must have thrown up the demon stone.

Her eyes snapped back to the memory eater as a low sob bubbled out of his throat before he started to scream, his skin smoking in the sunlight. With a short burst of adrenaline, he scrambled over to the shadow of a tree, fell to his rear, and scooted back into the little hole that the roots created, pulling his tail up in between his legs to sob into the end of it as if it were a handkerchief. Instantly, she felt a worm of sympathy crawl into torso, nest around her heart, constricting it, telling her to wander over and comfort the miserable monster. Slowly, she crawled out of the log, stood, and began to tip-toe towards the memory eater. Once she was close enough, she reached out, placed it on his shoulder after a moment of hesitation.

Instantly, the memory eater whimpered, recoiled violently from the touch, and then turned a watering eye up to Red. The black eye widened, a flurry of emotion passing through it, before the memory eater seized Red and began to sob helplessly into her skirt, his dull claws curling up into the cloth on her back. His tail curled up between his legs and touched his stomach. "Girl, girl… You… come… Make better…"

Red knelt, noticing that the empty eye socket was leaking bloody tears. A bit disgusted, she shushed him gently, "Sh… It's okay…"

"Make… better… Heart…" The memory eater took her hand with his trembling claws, pressed it against his chest. "Make better… hurts… hurts lots… Mirror man try to eat it…" He brought her hand up, used it as a handkerchief to wipe away his tears.

Red had no idea of what he talked of, but she caressed his head and cooed, "Don't worry… Don't worry." She started to stand.

The memory eater wrapped his fingers around her leg, whimpered, "No! No! Don't leave! I die! I die!" He tried to stay in the shadow of the tree, his skin still smoking, wisps of steam spindling up lazily.

Pausing, Red sighed, "Let's go back to the cave, okay? It's cold out here, and you obviously don't like the sun."

The memory eater nodded, still choking out small sobs, and then used Red to balance himself as he struggled up. "Wait… Stone… Need rock… Ow! Ow!" His shoulder started to smoke furiously.

Red pushed him back into the shade. "No, you're not going to eat the rock again."

The memory eater's eyes widened, panicked, and he grabbed her, "But I die if mirror man comes and finds rock to eat himself! And I cannot go to sun!"

Red grimaced, slipped out from under the memory eater's arm, and wandered over to the pile of vomit. Taking a stick, she poked around in the sticky mess before finding the blue stone, covered with black blood, and pushing it out of the vomit before picking up. Frowning in disgust, she pushed it into her pocket, "We won't leave it here for the… mirror man, but you can't have it."

The memory eater calmed before nodding wearily, "Yes… Yes… Good idea… Girl's idea good… Give back tomorrow, when feel better." He stepped forward, flinched as his skin started to smoke, but retained his groan of pain.

Red rolled her eyes, pushed him back to the shade, deciding not to tell him that she _wouldn_'_t _be handing it over to him _ever_.


	48. Changing

The minute they reached the cave after a long trip jumping from the shadow of a tree to the next, the memory eater fell to the ground, began to scrabble about for pebbles mindlessly, mind clouded with hunger, body racked with pain. When Red tried to ask him a question, he glowered at her, clasped a handful of pebbles to his chest protectively, as if she would try to steal his precious food. He finally ate enough to regain enough rationality to talk.

Sitting down on her bed of lichens and leaves, Red watched him gobble down the pebbles with weary fascination. "How can you stomach that?"

The memory eater glanced at her, sniffed, and then grumbled slowly, "Good rock." He crawled forward, found a black stone, and swallowed it down before fingering a little white rock in his hands, turning, and asking, "Girl want one?"

"I don't eat rocks."

The memory eater regarded the white pebble curiously before suddenly brightening, scurrying over to his corner, and scratching at the dirt. Within seconds, he pulled out the little half of cheese he had buried the day before, hurried over to Red, and held it out, "Eat."

Red bit her lip and lied, "…I'm not… hungry…" In reality, her stomach was roiling, hurting from its lack of food, but she wasn't about to eat dirt-covered cheese.

Slumping, the memory eater sat next to her, nibbled at the side of cheese, and groaned happily at the taste, "Really sure no want?"

"You can have it."

The memory eater nodded slowly, took a small bite, savored the taste, and then murmured, "Easy to kill hunger when little, but easy to die too. That why I no like changing to little me." Glancing down, he noticed a rather tempting leaf, took it, put it atop the cheese, and took a bite before letting himself shiver with satisfaction.

Red giggled at his reaction to the cheese and leaf, "You really like eating, don't you?"

"I meant to eat. Eat memories. That why I is." The memory eater gazed at the cheese and leaf before offering it once more to Red, "Eat? Very good."

"No, I'm fine. Go ahead and eat it."

The memory eater shoved it into his mouth, choked it down, and then leaned against Red happily, "Why not eat?"

"I'm not hungry."

"You are."

"How can you tell?" challenged Red, a bit annoyed.

"Your stomach goes rumble."

"So does yours." Retorted Red.

"Now you mad. Why mad?"

"…You're saying I'm hungry."

"But you is hungry."

"…Yes, I'm hungry, but I don't eat rocks or dirty cheese or any of that kind of stuff."

"Ah…" The memory eater curled his arms around her, licked her cheek, "And girl memory let me have food instead. I like."

"Glad you're happy."

The memory eater smiled before grabbing her, dragging her onto his lap, and laying down with her upon his stomach. Cooing, he stroked her hair, "I happy that I happy too."

"…And I'm happy that you're _this_ way." Red muttered, hoping that the memory eater would not wish to eat the demon stone if he thought he was better as he was.

The memory eater paused, fingers in her hair, before grunting, "I happier bigger."

"I'm happier with you smaller."

"But warmer for girl if bigger."

"Warmer?"

"Sleeping. I big blanket!" The memory eater spread his arms out wide before hugging himself, petting his fur, and whispering, "Soft blanket. Good blanket for girl who has no fur."

Red laughed, "Well, that's nice of you."

"Nice? Not warm?"

"Well… you're warm too."

The memory eater seized her, hugged her, and barely kept her captive as she squeaked and struggled vainly. Softly, he dug his wet, running snout into her hair, snuffled, and then whispered, "Why girl run away? Does girl not like anymore?"

Sighing, Red twisted around, glared up into his face, "I do not like being a _slave_."

"Not slave. Girl servant." sniffed the memory eater, miffed. "My girl servant. Me only."

"And I don't want to be one."

"No, no, no!" The memory eater clamped his hands over his ears, glowered at her with his good eye, and hissed, "Mine!"

Red cast a withering glare at him, "No, not yours."

"Mine, mine, mine! My girl! My girl memory! Makes _me_ feel better when hurtful! Mine!" The memory eater reached for her again, muscles tense.

Red let him drag her back over to him, hug her, and fume angrily into her hair before muttering softly, "I don't _want_ to be a servant… And I want to see my friends."

"I your friend?" asked the memory eater hastily.

"…Sort of, but-"

"Tell me feeling."

"Huh?"

"Tell me feeling o' friend? Hurt little when they go away? Hurt lot when they go away?"

Red stared up at him, "Um… It hurts... Well, it depends on how well you knew them, how close you were."

The memory eater mulled over this before whispering, "What feeling hurt lot lots when they go away?"

"Don't know."

The monster grumbled, pushed her away, and then curled up on the floor into a small, black, furry ball. Sniffling into his fur, he murmured, "Sleep with girl? Be blanket?"

Rolling her eyes, Red muttered, "It hasn't _stopped_ you before, has it? Except we're sleeping on the leaves this time."

"Why leaves?"

"'Cause they're softer."

The memory eater uncurled, hurried to the bed of leaves, and, winding around, finally settled down into a comfortable spot. He gazed imploringly at Red, who sighed, lay down by him, and used one of his paws as a pillow.

Instantly, he had one of his hind paws thrown over her legs and his head resting on her shoulder as he said sleepily, "I like being blanket."

Red didn't reply. She was too busy glaring at the ceiling and cursing her luck, trying to keep a look of anger from her face. Why did she have to be a teddy bear for a stupid but childish monster? It was torture!

* * *

The Wolf held Peter in his arms as his son nibbled at the small piece of cooked meat ravenously, starving after a day of only eating two cookies. Stroking the blonde fur, he lilted, "Peter, take your time… Don't eat too fast…"

Peter paused, his black eyes quivering, and then leaned against his father's chest. Moaning, he dropped the meat, curled his fingers into the gray fur, and whimpered, "Where's Marie?"

The Wolf sighed, bent his head, and licked his son's nose, "Don't worry, Peter. Me and… Hansel are working on getting her back, aren't we, Hans- That's Peter's meat." He glared at not-Hansel, who was reaching for the discarded piece of meat.

Not-Hansel drew his hand back immediately, ducking behind the corner so the Wolf could not see him, and whispered, "So it is."

"See, Peter?" The Wolf growled as he saw not-Hansel's eyes slowly raise over the covers, his look sly and eager. With a small, silent snarl, he grabbed the meat, pushed it back into Peter's hands.

As not-Hansel stared at it helplessly, Peter bit at it slowly, chewed the little piece, and then swallowed before dropping the meat, hugging his father again.

"Peter… please eat…"

"I'm not hungry, papa…"

"But you need to regain your strength."

"…I want Marie…" Peter buried his watering eyes into his father's fur, sniffled sadly.

The Wolf was about to reply with an encouraging word when he felt pressure on the edge of the bed. Glancing over, he saw not-Hansel crawling up, tongue flickering out. Lying down next to the Wolf, he whispered, "Want me to send him to sleep?"

The Wolf clutched Peter closer, staring at not-Hansel. "I don't want you to _touch_ him, let alone… send him to sleep… You might be meaning something else."

Not-Hansel's eyes shimmered before he smirked, "Ask the book."

"What?"

"The book I gave you. It'll tell you about me."

"But you're not a memory eater."

"I didn't mean that. Why don't you take a look?"

The Wolf bit his lip before turning, looking at the battered, white book on the bedside table, and then took it. Glancing at the front, he blinked when he saw the title had changed: _Mirror Inhabitants_. He flipped it open, turned a few pages aimlessly, and then muttered, "What page?"

"Last one."

The Wolf turned there, held the book up so he could squint at the forming words. After a few moments, he glared at not-Hansel and hissed, "So you can make poison?"

"Several. I just said 'no' when you asked before because you didn't trust me."

"I don't trust you _now_ either."

"…Oh." Not-Hansel shrugged.

The Wolf's fur fluffed up as he grew even angrier, "And so you're suggesting you poison my son so he can _sleep_?"

"…A very good decision, I would think, taking what condition he is in. Any stress will be bound to hurt him."

"You're not going to poison my son!"

"He would wake up."

"I don't trust-"

Suddenly, quicker than the Wolf could see, not-Hansel's teeth were buried in Peter's calf. Quickly releasing his bite, he drew back as the Wolf yelped in both rage and horror. "See? That is all it takes…"

"You bit him! You bit him! I'm going to kill-"

The Wolf bit off his sentence as Peter curled up in his arms and fell straight to sleep. Staring down at him, he quickly bent his head, listened to his son's even breathing, and then glared at the smug not-Hansel, "Never do that again."

"Don't worry. It won't hurt him except for a scab on his calf." Not-Hansel drew close, grabbed the discarded piece of cooked rabbit, and hastily drew back to the floor to enjoy his prize. "And this is all I want."

The Wolf disregarded the disgusting noises that started to come from not-Hansel as he ate, paying attention only to his sleeping son. Bouncing him gently in his arms, he whispered, "Peter… Please get better… Please, please, please…"

* * *

When the memory eater woke up, he was suffering from a migraine and blistering skin. Sniffling, cowering, he rolled away from Red, buried his head into the leaves and lichens, and lay there for a few moments before sitting up, wailing softly and ripping at his ears. Staggering up, he stumbled away from the bed, half-blind with sleepiness, and tripped over a rock. He fell to his knees, curled up where he was, and shivered as he clutched at his head, trying to make the pain leave.

How did his girl memory do it? How could she just touch it and make the pain go away? What did she do?

Faintly remembering the headache he had developed the morning after he had met her, he reached up and stroked his trembling ears. He continued to do so for a little while, the pain only inching away just a bit before roaring back. He gave up, crawled over to Red, and began to nuzzle his head up under her hand, moaning.

Red snorted in her sleep before turning, hugging the memory eater's head. Instantly, the memory eater's pain raced away, and he moaned in pleasure as his tail waved in the air like a black flag. This is why he loved his girl memory so much: she made his pain go away.

Slowly, he put his arm over her side, hugged her back, nuzzled her stomach with his nose happily, and that was when Red woke up.

"Ah! No! What are you doing?" Red squeaked, seeing the memory eater with his nose pushing into her stomach.

"…Hurting." The memory eater turned innocent black eyes up to her.

Sighing as she calmed, Red grumbled, "Where?"

"Head." The memory eater buried his nose into her stomach again, shivering. "Make better."

Red rolled her eyes, started to stroke his ears, and, instantly, the memory eater was shivering with ecstasy, his leg twitching as he tried desperately not to make a fool of himself and collapse into happy and relieved tears.

"Yes… Make better…"

Red stopped scratching his ears, glared down at him as he started to hug her tighter, "Would you please let go of me?"

"Make better first. Keep- No! No!" The memory eater tried to keep his arms around her as she wriggled out of his grasp. Whimpering, he crawled after her as she stood, walked slowly away.

Red glowered at him, "What do you want?"

"Make better…" The memory eater sat back, stared up at her with longing eyes, and bared his curved teeth in a hopeful grin. "Hug? Then stone?"

"I'm not going to give you back the demon stone."

"…Why?" The memory eater's smile fell.

"Because."

"But why because?"

"You eat people while you're with the demon stone."

"…Can eat people like this… just… not easy."

"Yes, so stick with rocks and pinecones."

"…Okay… But make better?" The memory eater clasped his head, groaning.

Coming back over, Red took his head in her hand and began to stroke it softly. He moaned, leaned against her legs, "Like feeling. Keep do."

Red pursed her lips, withdrew her fingers, and, as the memory eater groaned and whined, said, "I'm going back to sleep, so don't wake me."

"But… make better." The memory eater nosed her dress, ears pressed back against his skull.

"Just pet your ears."

"Doesn't work. You do."

"_I'm_ going to sleep."

The memory eater let a low whimper burble out of his throat, "But hurts!" He raised a hand to his head, curled up, and began to rock back and forth, letting the whimper turn to a full-throated whine.

"It'll go away." Red said wearily as she lay down on her leaves and moss and fell almost immediately to sleep.

The memory eater continued to rock back and forth, whimpering, wanting her touch to soothe his pain. Why did his girl memory have to sleep? Why? Where had this pain in his head come from? It hurt him so very much! Tears began to trickle from his eyes, and he balked with a grunt before brushing one away, staring at the wet spot it left on the fur of his fingers.

Why was he watering?

* * *

"He's changing."

"Huh?" The Wolf glanced up from Peter, whom he had been grooming softly as he slept. Blinking, he quizzed, "Who's changing?"

"The memory eater." Not-Hansel held up his palm-sized mirror, which was now blank except for the Wolf's reflection. "He's changing."

The Wolf sighed, turned his head back to Peter, "And I should care why?"

"…If we want to save your Gretel, right now would be a perfect time to do it."

"And do you know where he is?"

"In a cave."

"There's dozens of caves around here. Which one?"

Not-Hansel hesitated before licking his lips and whispering greedily, "I'll look for it and hunt at the same time."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't trust your idea of food."

"I promise only rabbits and mice… Maybe the occasional badger."

"_No_."

Grumbling, not-Hansel stalked from room. With a sigh, the Wolf returned his attention to his son, caressing him, kissing him, wishing he would return to what he had been before. He didn't want his son to be any worse off than he already was, and not-Hansel had eaten all the moths in the jars…

The Wolf slowly transferred Peter from his lap to the covers, stood, and then crept to the door, "Hansel thing?"

No response.

"Hansel thing?" The Wolf glanced up and down the hall, saw nothing, and hurried down the hall. As he passed the kitchen, he paused, peered in, and groaned.

The window was open, leaving a clear pathway to the snow outside. He hastily strode over to it, gazed out, saw nobody, and sighed as he shut it.

Not-Hansel was gone.

* * *

Red stood at the edge of a cliff, staring down at the frothing black sea. Behind her stood the Wolf, stroking her hair, whispering words in her hair that would pass by in a wind, snatching away their meanings.

Turning, she stared at him before asking, "What did you say?"

Smiling gently, the Wolf pointed down at the water. Red glanced down, froze. Where had the water gone? All that was left was a mirror, reflecting the cliff, reflecting the little girl who stood atop of it.

Suddenly, she stood on the mirror, staring down at herself. As she gazed at it, her reflection reached out, hissed, "Memory."

The Wolf appeared behind her, pulled her back, snarled, "Don't let them get-"

Gasping, Red sat up, clutching her chest, mind racing as she glanced about in agitation. All she saw was the memory eater's cave and the leaves that had been scattered in her restless turning and tossing.

Slowly calming, Red put glanced back, saw the memory eater crouched in the corner, shivering violently, whimpering softly. She sighed, stood, and wandered over, "Do you still have your headache? I'm sorry about going back to sleep and all... I should have helped you get rid of the headache, but-" She froze, surprised, as the memory eater glanced over his shoulder.

Streaks of gray ran across his fur, and his eye had turned a startling blue. The other socket was bleeding freely again, but Red was disgusted and confused to see a pupiless milky eye roll to 'see' her.

"I… It hurts… lots…" The memory eater shivered, turned towards her, revealing stripes that crept from the epicenter of his stomach. His anatomy had hardened a bit, filling out his scraggly frame a bit with new flesh and blood.

Red flinched when she saw that he was also developing male parts. Gulping, she averted her eyes, whispered, "We need to get you pants."

"Hurts…" Moaning, the changing monster reached for her, but, before he could even touch her, he stumbled, tripped, and fell to the floor. He lay there, whimpering softly, curling up, and sobbing hysterically. "It hurts! It hurts!"

Horrified, Red knelt at his side, took his head in her hands, and hugged it gently as he twisted to cry into her dress. Slowly, he began to calm, and Red finally worked up the nerve to ask, "What's happening to you?"

"Eat… lots of memories… Turn… Be original…" The memory eater turned his tear-stained face up to her, the streaks of gray creeping across the bridge of his nose. His new-grown white eye was gradually developing a pupil, promising to be a soft blue.

Red caressed his nose hurriedly, trying to stop him from bursting into tears again, "Shh…. Shh… It's okay… It's okay…"

The memory eater pushed his head against her chest, whined, "Make better! Make better!"

For the next ten minutes, Red caressed the memory eater's ears and neck, easing his pain, causing him to melt with relief under her fingers. Finally, he forced himself up, grunted softly, "So… Must get pants?"

"Yes…" Red forced herself to not look anywhere else but his face.

"Where get?"

"The town… but you can't go like that."

"Why no?" moaned the memory eater.

"You're naked."

"…But… Need pants… Cover like original does… _Modesty_." The memory eater sighed, plopped back down on the ground, and buried his head into his arms. His legs crossed in front of him as he tried to cover his new-found nakedness.

Red patted his head reassuringly, happy that he was trying to be modest, not so thrilled to have to be cast into this situation in the first place. "I'll go in and get some for you, if you want."

"No!" The memory's eaters curled up into her skirt, digging into her skin, "Mirror man will hurt!"

"The mirror man won't hurt me." Replied Red mildly.

The memory eater stared up at her before releasing her, turning his back to her, and curling up to sulk glumly, "… Good idea… Much better idea than me. Girl smarter. Girl better. Girl not in pain." He glanced at her again, envious tears in his eyes.

Red sighed, bent forward, and caressed his head one last time before standing, moving towards the exit of the cave.


	49. King Of Splinters

It took a full two hours for Red to find her way to the town. Once there, she went straight to Blue's house, intending to borrow some of the old clothes that she knew he kept stowed up in their attic. He was ecstatic when he saw her, but refused to come outside. Instead, he grabbed her, lugged her inside, and proceeded to lay out the details of the attack on his father's tavern.

As he rapidly chattered on, Blue sorted through the chest of old clothes that had once fit his father, "-and there was this big monster, but father shot him in the eye, and the monster ran away, but I'm sure it came back, 'cause I got knocked out, and-"

"Blue."

"Huh?"

"I just need a pair of pants."

"Oh, yes." Blue blushed, pulled out a long, white pant to hold it up for Red to see, "This good?"

"That's fine, thank you." Red took it from him, looped it over her arm.

Nodding fervently, Blue stood, kicked the chest shut, and came closer to her, "So… Where've you been?"

"Where I've be- At my cousin's house."

"Again?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Her mother is… sick." Lied Red.

"Really? With what?"

Red spoke the first thing that came to mind, "The fever."

With a squeak, Blue flinched before whispering, "That's horrible! When is she supposed to _die_?"

"…Soon."

"But… how soon?"

"Soon enough." Red forced a teary frown to her face.

"…Oh… I'm sorry then…" Blue wringed his hands nervously, never meeting her eyes directly, "Really sorry… Sorry… You're probably wanting to go back right away…"

"Yes." Said Red sharply, a bit more urgent than she needed to be.

"Oh." Blue seemed slightly startled before blushing, a sash of deep crimson crossing his tanned but pale face. "'Kay, then… I'll see you?" His voice held an edge of intense desire in it, and Red remember the infuriating conversation Hansel and the Wolf had held in the tavern over whether or not this boy had a liking for her or not.

"Yes." Red nodded before turning, hurrying to the ladder that led up to the attic, and starting down.

* * *

The memory eater had finished changing, ending up with a mottled gray and black coat of fur, two soft blue eyes, and the deepest feeling of shame one could muster. He now trudged through the sunlight, ignoring the burning smell that rose from his back as he tried to find something to cover himself. Several times, he pushed away the annoyed pang of hunger his stomach throbbed out, but it was constantly creeping back to infuriate him even more. 

"Bad change! No like! Make bad feeling! Hurt! No like! No like!" He muttered furiously to himself, scratching at his new eye. He had grown somewhat used to the feeling of empty socket…

Breaking into a furious rage, he grabbed a nearby branch, smashed it against a tree, and then fell upon the splinters, nibbling at them hungrily, glancing around with a look of greed in his eyes. These were _his_ splinters; they did him no harm, and they did what he pleased. Right now, he wanted them to stay still and let him eat them.

Realizing his gluttonous pride, the memory eater paused, licked a splinter from his lip, and then stood to keep walking on sullenly. If he was thinking he could rule _splinters_, then he knew that something was wrong with him. Was it just because he was still sore from his girl memory leaving him? She was to hurry back with a pair of pants for him…. That was what servants did, no? The only problem was that _he_ had not sent _he_r in the first place.

He paused, bent, took up a pinecone, and swallowed it without a second thought to calm his thoughts. Maybe he shouldn't be so worried. His girl memory was caring for him, willing to even trudge all the way back to town just to fetch some pants for him. She was the reason why he was still alive; she had healed his pain, healed his hurt with just a touch. Why? Was it because she was one of the original's memories? A close and likable memory?

The memory eater sighed, bent to pick up a small stone, and then grew distracted by some small squeaking noises to his left. Blinking, he dropped to his knees and hands, crawled forward, and peeked through the bushes. Instantly, he froze.

Not-Hansel held a struggling rabbit in his hands, muscles tensed as he surveyed his meal-to-be. Grinning, he opened his mouth wide, let his sinuous and snaky tongue slide out. The memory eater was frozen in terror as he watched the tip of the mirror man's tongue split apart, revealing sharp, curved teeth and a folded hood, turning the tongue into the black body of a cobra. Eyes flickering, it struck at the rabbit, pumping sordid amounts of poison into the poor thing.

The rabbit fell still, dead, and the cobra began to engulf it as not-Hansel began to draw back his tongue, eyes fluttering with ecstasy. The cobra's head, the rabbit halfway down its esophagus, disappeared into his throat, and not-Hansel stood still for a few moments as he readjusted before grinning sharply, turning, and bending his head to his little mirror to whisper.

The memory eater curled up, hiding in his bush as not-Hansel muttered into his mirror for a few moments before smirking, turning, and stalking away through the trees. As soon as he was sure that the mirror creature was gone, the memory eater uncurled, poked his head out hesitantly, and rubbed at his chest inadvertently, remembering the harsh pain that the mirror man had inflicted upon his heart with a flinch.

Suddenly, the memory eater panicked as he remembered his girl memory. She was outside! She was where the bad mirror man could get her! Not noticing his own fur fluffing up in agitation, he scurried forward on all four paws, his gait unsteady with sudden awkwardness created by hysterical worry.

* * *

The Wolf had finally brought himself to wake Peter so the little wolf could eat. However, still under the effect of the poison, Peter kept falling asleep in his father's arms, the little pieces of berry falling from his mouth to splat against his fur and new shorts. 

Annoyed, the Wolf settled to let him sleep as long as Peter would swallow the berries. So, as he snoozed on, Peter ate eighteen small cherries, four blueberries, before totally shutting down, refusing to swallow anything.

The Wolf sighed, laid his son back down carefully, and pushed the covers up around him to create a little hill of comforters, blankets, and pillows. Watching Peter cuddle up to one of the pillows, he sighed, turned, and walked out to the kitchen. With a sigh, he slumped into one of the kitchen chairs, glared at the table top, and then noticed the little white book that not-Hansel had given him, except it was now entitled _The Anatomy, Habits, and Thoughts_ _of Mirror Creatures_.

Curious, he picked it up, opened to the first page, and came across a small diagram of a memory eater. He shook his head, turned the page, found the next one blank, stared at it for a moment, and was about to turn it when small squiggles of ink began to worm their way across the page.

'Memory eaters are by all means threatening, for they eat the memories of their originals, but there is a certain turning point in their short lives that has been noted. They commence their lives by eating memories, and seek to end this by eating their original, thus destroying the memories, thus destroying the duty bound to them.' The paragraph ended there.

The Wolf sniffed, fingered the corner of the page, and turned it. Instantly, words scattered across the page, rearranged themselves, 'However, the memory eater is capable of housing his own memories, and, if he achieves enough amiability towards what he is and wishes for it not change, the duty is broken and the memory eater will seek to start his own life. This would be thought to be a most sought after path, but, because of their 'stupidity', they usually die soon after their decision, for they have no factual memories to urge them on.'

"Well, if that helps any." Growled the Wolf, turned the page again.

'Your memory eater's not going to eat you or Peter.'

Startled, the Wolf threw the book down, pushed his chair violently back, only succeeded in tipping it over with him still in it. Swearing as he stumbled up, he glared at the book, suspicious.

For a few moments, the book lay there as a normal book should have done; however, after a minute, the page slowly raised, fell to the opposite side to reveal the next blank page.

Unnerved, the Wolf hastily bounded out of the kitchen, shut the door, and scurried back to Red's room, "Stupid magic! Stupid, stupid magic! Hate it! It's just not _right_! Why can't things be _normal_?"

* * *

As the memory eater had feared, not-Hansel had seen Red returning from the town, and had doubled back to stalk her, eyes glittering in their faceted, unnerving way. The memory eater, who was following not-Hansel, was panicking in such a way that he almost managed to convince himself to race forward and engage the enemy mirror man, but his faint-heartedness held him back every time. So he just followed and watched helplessly as not-Hansel tried to figure out what to do with this girl. 

Oblivious to the other mirror creature following him, not-Hansel crawled through the snow, his hands frozen, covered with ice and snow, but he ignored it as he eyed the girl happily and greedily. There was his original's sister, the one who he had been sent through to 'rescue', but she did not look as if she needed rescuing.

He ducked down as Red turned, hearing the small crack of a stick snapping under the snow.

Glaring out behind her, Red huffed, curled the pants tighter around her shivering arms, and grumbled, "Is someone following me? Please… You're kind of scaring me…"

Not-Hansel's tongue flicked out before he took some snow, wiped away some dirt and dried spittle from his face, and stood.

"Hansel!" Red was shocked. Hansel had found her already?

Not-Hansel shuddered before stepping forward. "Gretel… I've been looking for you… How are… you?" He grimaced before fingering his chin and wondering if those were the right words to use. What would his original say?

A bit unnerved by Hansel's nonchalant way of greeting her, Red asked, "Are you… okay?"

"No, not really, because I just failed in tricking you." Not-Hansel scuffed a shoe at the snow under his foot before grinning sharply, holding up his mirror, "Don't worry though, I have my original here. As soon as I can, I'll wake him and let him come through so he can see you, okay?" He tilted the mirror, showing the real Hansel sleeping in his emptiness.

Red stared before squeaking, "What?"

"This is Hansel. I think you know him." Not-Hansel frowned, licked the mirror, and then wiped away the smudge, "And he was the one who told me to save you, but you don't need saving from our… _bad beasty_, no?" He twirled the mirror around before stopping, glancing over his shoulder, and glaring at the bushes with such intensity that the memory eater trembled. Did the mirror man know he was hiding there?

Red didn't catch his tone and glare. Staring at him, she whispered, "Wait… But… Are you his-"

Instantly, not-Hansel was red with fury. "No! I am not his memory eater! How dare you even _think_ that? Do I look like a mere copy to you?" Small veins of black raced up his neck in his rage, his eyes turning a dark gray.

"No, no!" said Red hurriedly, backing away.

Behind his bush, the memory eater shivered, clasping his head in his hands, trying not to moan with the helpless feeling of uselessness. If the mirror man attacked his girl memory, he would be unable to stop him! He was just too scary, and he had that cursed mirror with which he could touch hearts!

Not-Hansel slowly calmed, his neck becoming pale as the veins receded, his eyes turning their normal icy-blue facets. Rubbing his forehead, he muttered, "I am sorry… It is just that memory eaters are the sorriest of us all…" He stopped, glanced down at his mirror, whispered so Red couldn't hear, "Luckiest too…" Turning his eyes back up, he continued in a slightly louder voice and a rather annoyed tone, "And I do not like being called a memory eater!"

Red was about to apologize when she saw not-Hansel's black tongue flick out quickly. Blinking, thinking it a trick of light, she stammered, "Oh… S-s-so you're… the mirror man?"

"Yes, if that's what the thing calls me."

Red remembered the memory eater's insistence that a 'mirror-man' was there to kill him. Gulping, she asked, "Uh… So… You're going to take me back?"

"Yes." Not-Hansel reached forward before pausing, smiling, and stripping off his ragged shirt. He held it out, "Wear this. You're cold."

With a few hesitant steps, Red came forward, took it, and hastily shrugged it on. Even the thin layer of cloth was a blessed relief from the piercing cold, and it caused her to relax in relief, "Oh… Thank you…"

Coming closer to her, suddenly hungry-eyed, not-Hansel whispered, "We go back to the house now, yes?"

"…Uh… Sure…"

"And, a question before we leave: where is the stone?" Not-Hansel looped an arm over her shoulder, leaned in, and took a small breath of her skin.

Red stiffened. Suddenly, it seemed not such a good idea to have the demon stone in her skirt pocket. Unnerved, she shrugged out of not-Hansel's grasp, muttered, "I don't know."

Not-Hansel followed her, eyes greedy, smile hungry, "You sure…? I wouldn't want to let the beasty have it."

"I don't know. He threw it away."

"He _what?"_ For a moment, veins began to creep up not-Hansel's neck, but he choked down his rage before hissing, "He _threw_ away a _demon stone_? What if someone else finds it? Then this whole thing will never end and I won't be able to go home!" He turned, swearing violently as he rubbed at his neck.

"Uh… Yes…" Red shuddered.

Once again, not-Hansel shot a hate-filled glare at the bushes, and the memory eater whimpered silently. His girl memory was making it worse! "He did, did he?"

"…Yes."

Grumpily, not-Hansel sighed, grabbed her arm, turned her around, and began to walk her forward, "We're going back to the house. The Wolf will want to see you and that stupid, blonde brat of his."

"Hey! Peter isn't stupid!"

Not-Hansel stopped before saying sarcastically, "Oh, did I say that? I'm _sorry_… I meant to say that he was stupid, blond brat who can't even stand up."

Red opened her mouth to retort, but not-Hansel snarled, pushed her forward, "I want to go back home! I don't want to wait here! Just go!"

Terrified at not-Hansel's roughness and anger, Red complied and hurried forward, dropping the pants behind her. As the mirror man and his girl memory disappeared into the trees, the memory eater crept to the dropped clothes, sniffed at it, and then moaned at the smell of his girl memory.

He'd have to follow her and rescue her from the mirror man, wouldn't he?

* * *

The second the Wolf heard the door open, he sat up from the bed, blinked, and then stormed up and out of the bedroom, "Hansel thing! What the heck did you think I meant when I said you couldn't go out and-" 

A little waist high blur slammed into him, and he found himself yelping as he jumped back, Red latched around his waist, "Wolf!"

A bit unnerved by her sudden appearance and her vicious hug, the Wolf stuttered, "Wh-where did you… come from?"

"Well… The memory eater started turning into you, and… I had to get him pants…" Red blushed before glancing back at not-Hansel, who was glaring at the both of them, and whispered, "Who is he? Where's Hansel? Is he really in the mirror?"

Miserably, the Wolf grunted, "Yes, and I've had to put up with his garbage for such a long time." He pointed a finger at not-Hansel before he fluffed up and snorted, "And he poisoned Peter!"

"I made him _go to sleep_." muttered not-Hansel, fingering his shirt before bringing the palm-sized mirror to his lips and whispering words into it.

Red stared at the reflection of her brother before shuddering, "Well… Okay… But… Can we have the real Hansel back?"

"…It'll take time." Said not-Hansel hastily before turning, scurrying into the kitchen, and calling, "And I do mean it when I say it will take time."

"Four hours?" The Wolf hissed.

"No! Much longer than that!"

"Then how come it only took four hours to switch with Hansel at the cursed mirror house?"

Not-Hansel slowly peeked out around the doorjamb, eyes wide, "Really? Four hours? To me, it seemed like a decade."

"Just… work…" snapped the Wolf.

Not-Hansel ducked back out of his sight before baring his teeth in a feral snarl. Turning, he spat a hasty instruction into the mirror before smiling maliciously, dropping the mirror on the table, and sneaking to the window.

* * *

**OOC: Sorry for the late update everyone, but Christmas is closing in on me, and I still have to wrap the presents that I _have not_ bought yet... Mm... Invisible presents to you, my readers.**

**HAPPY HOLIDAYS!**


	50. Into the Mirror

The memory eater shivered up against the wall, his gray black-striped fur covered in snow, his new pants soaked through. Ears perked, he slowly pulled himself up, peeked through the window, and saw his original with his girl memory. Ducking down as he gasped, he shivered in quiet relief.

If his original had the girl memory, than she was safe. The original was stronger than him in so many ways, so she would be safer with him than anyone else.

His tail wagged furiously as he stretched to glance back through the frosted glass, moaning when he saw Red and the Wolf disappear into a room. He stared for a few moments, expecting them to come back, and then crawled for the next window. With a small whine, he glanced over the sill, saw Red embracing a small, blonde wolf who was trying to blink sleeping boogers from his eyes as he lay in her arms. Instantly, a pang of jealously raced through him, and he shivered in envy before sighing, crouching, and turning with the intent to return to the previous window.

Not-Hansel stood in front of him, a small sneer on his face, "You think I didn't know that you were following us?"

The memory eater, startled, started to leap back, but not-Hansel was not about to let the other mirror creature flee. Smiling pointedly, he pushed the memory eater to the ground, pounced upon him, and held down the struggling, whimpering mirror creature as he flailed vainly.

"Now, now…" whispered not-Hansel, the disgusting black tongue poking out from between his lips. The tongue twisted around in the air above the memory eater's head before the end flared, transforming to the cobra he had seen before.

Teasingly, not-Hansel let the cobra settle down upon the memory eater's chest before leaning forward, whispering around his tongue, "Where is the demon stone?"

Eyes rolling with fear, the memory eater moaned, "No hurt… No hurt… Please… please…"

"Where is the stone?" Not-Hansel pushed the cobra further up, where it began to wind slowly around the memory eater's neck. "I want to make sure that _this_ never happens again."

Gasping, the memory eater wailed softly, "Stone! Stone in forest! No hurt! No hurt!" He didn't want to tell this horrible man where the stone _really_ was, that it was in Red's pocket, for he feared that the mirror man would go to any means to get it.

For a few moments, not-Hansel gazed at him before smugly asking, "Where in the forest, you dumb creature?"

"Cave! Cave in forest! Cave by river! Ah! No! No!" The memory eater balked as the cobra pushed its head into his ear, the slick black scales scraping against the tender tissue inside. Terrified, hurt, and pathetically confused, the memory eater began to sob.

Not-Hansel bent, whispered into his opposite ear, "Shh… Don't cry…"

The memory eater slumped with relief as the cobra retracted itself from his ear, only to flinch as it flicked its tongue at his pink-gray, trembling nose. "Please… please… no hurt…"

"Why would I hurt you?" cooed not-Hansel. "All my original said was to retrieve his sister, and I have. My original never said to do anything to you… For all I care, you can stay and feast upon everybody else, but I just want my original to be safe. So... The demon stone's gone... Lost..." He leaned closer, the head of the tongue opening its jaws and hissing loudly. "And I would not hesitate to kill the last threat!"

The memory eater couldn't take it. With a small choking sound, he fainted, eyes rolling back, his muscles tensing before relaxing suddenly.

Not-Hansel cocked his head, interested, and then retracted his tongue. Grunting softly, he stood, grabbed the memory eater's legs, and dragged him away.

* * *

Red and the Wolf were fawning over Peter as not-Hansel dragged the memory eater into the house, placed him by the side of the stove, and threw a few rags over him. Happily, he began to draw things out of the cover, trying to find something to feed his unconscious 'guest'. What a great thing this human world was! Sweet food in bags, ready to be eaten!

Finding a bag of sugar, he pulled it down, opened it up, and let his tongue snake in. After a few moments of coating it with sugar, he smiled, withdrew it, and happily lugged the bag over to the memory eater. He kneeled, cocked his head, and then slowly opened the half-wolf's mouth before grabbing a handful of sugar, sticking his fist in, and dropping the white sand down the memory eater's esophagus. He withdrew it as the memory eater began to cough, choking on the food.

Sniffing, he pushed the memory eater's chin up, helping him angle his head so he could swallow the problematic sugar. After a few seconds, the memory eater relaxed, sighed with satisfaction.

Not-Hansel grinned sharply, bent forward, and whispered, "Aren't you happy that I get to feed you now? You should just hope that that stupid Wolf will not freak out… And I know that your little friend will have no problems with you…" He petted the memory eater's head softly before standing, turning, and waltzing down the hall happily. Coming up to Red's room, he peeked in, bared his teeth in a smile when he saw his original's sister chatting with the little, blonde wolf.

The Wolf, who was standing back to allow the two friends room, saw him, grimaced, growled, "What do you want?"

"…I was wondering if… _if_ the memory eater came, what would you do?"

"Well, as long as he goes nowhere near Peter, I wouldn't care."

"…Really?"

"Yes... But why do you ask?"

"He's in the kitchen."

The Wolf's fur instantly fuzzed out, his eyes wide, "He's _what_?"

* * *

The Wolf and not-Hansel went back to the kitchen, leaving Red and Peter in the bedroom.

The Wolf seemed rather awed as he poked the memory eater in the shoulder, ears perked in interest, eyes glittering with curiosity. "Did you kill him?"

"No! He fainted when I found him lurking outside the windows!" Not-Hansel glowered at the Wolf.

"…And you fed him _sugar_?" The Wolf turned confused eyes to the brown bag of sugar that lay besides the memory eater.

"Yes. He felt hungry."

"How can you tell?"

"If you had read the book, you would know, so be quiet and just be there while I wake him up." Not-Hansel leaned forward, tongue flicking out, "He's scared of me, so you need to calm him down."

"Uh… Why would-"

"You're his original. He _worships_ you. Now shut up and look comforting or something." Not-Hansel opened the memory eater's jaws, pulled at the memory eater's tongue, and cooed, "Come on… Wake up. Your original wants to meet you."

The memory eater stirred, moaning.

"Come on… Don't you want to eat?"

Groaning, the memory eater slumped into not-Hansel's welcoming arms, "Girl… Stop… Sleeping…"

"No, no… You can sleep later…"

"Huh? Girl?" The memory eater's eyes flickered open.

"No, no girl. Your original and-"

"Ah!" The memory eater instantly cowered against the wall, fur on end, tail curled up to touch his stomach. "No! No hurt! Bad mirror man! Bad mirror man! Hurt ear! Snake man! No! N-"

Not-Hansel pushed the Wolf forward, "Calm him down!"

A bit confused, the Wolf stumbled, glowered back at not-Hansel, and then bent next to his copy. As the memory eater flinched, tried to make himself smaller as he whimpered, "No hurt… No hurt… No snake…"

Slowly, the Wolf reached forward, took the tip of one of the memory eater's ears in his hand, and stroked it gently.

The memory eater froze before melting with envious pleasure, "Original…"

"Hello...?" The Wolf cocked his head, peered into the memory eater's face.

Instantly, the Wolf found his entire arm locked in an embrace, the memory eater shivering as he whimpered, "Don't let the mirror man hurt."

"I won't." The Wolf cast a bewildered glance at not-Hansel, who smirked.

* * *

The Wolf soon found out what not-Hansel had meant when the mirror man had said that the memory eater 'worshiped him'. The moment that the Wolf explained that not-Hansel would not hurt him, the memory eater had gone into an ecstatic babbling spree, spurting words as he tried to please his original.

"Like Peter memory. Peter memories good and very happy. Can I see Peter memory? Oh! Girl memory! I want girl memory? Where's-"

The Wolf groaned, put his head against the table. After five minutes of incessant chatter, he could feel a headache coming on, "Can you please be quiet?"

"Huh? Oh…" The memory eater slumped, ears wilting, "Mad?"

"No… Just… I have a headache… Can you just be quiet for a little while?"

"Yes!" The memory eater sat down earnestly before scooting forward, eyes bright, eager-to-please.

His happiness disappeared when not-Hansel's hands snaked onto his shoulders. Yelping, he jerked around, eyes wide with fright, as not-Hansel said softly but dangerously, "May I ask that you two _leave_ so I can open my mirror and get my original _out_?"

The Wolf stood, turned, and then felt breath on his heels. Blinking, he glanced behind and saw the memory eater slinking at his heels. He sighed, grumbled, "Are you really going to follow me?"

"…I like original." The memory eater rubbed his head against the Wolf's leg. "Original gives me memories…"

The Wolf squeaked as the memory eater grabbed his legs, hugged them tightly. Stepping forward, dragging the memory eater forward, he hissed, "Get off!"

The memory eater scrambled off, yelping happily, and then ran past the Wolf to scurry down the hall. As the Wolf began to follow him, he sprinted into the bedroom, and, without stopping, threw himself up upon the bed, squishing Red in the process.

"Girl memory!"

Red choked as the memory eater lathered her with sloppy, wet licks and snuggled down on top of her, "Get off, you fat lug!"

Instantly, the memory eater moaned, "Not fat… Skinny… Hungry… Ooh!" He grew distracted as Peter sat up, eyes wide, ear quivering. Sliding off of Red, he crawled forward, sniffed at Peter, and then stiffened before licking his lips and whispering, "Peter memory."

Red tugged at his tail, "No, you can't eat him."

"But hungry." The memory eater turned, put a hand to his belly as he sat, and moaned dramatically, "Hungry… And Peter is memory."

"No." Red crawled so she lay in between the memory eater and Peter. Flopping down, she hugged Peter with an arm while keeping her eyes upon the copy of the Wolf.

The memory eater grimaced, scratched at his nose, "Kidding, kidding. Not eat Peter memory. Joke. Big joke. Ah! Original!" Scrambling up as the Wolf stepped in, the memory eater scrambled over to him, tackled him down.

"AH! You big oaf! Get off of me!" The Wolf groaned, exhausted as the memory eater wriggled atop of him.

"Want memories." The memory eater grabbed the Wolf's ears, began to tug at them.

"Ow! Ow! That hurts!" The Wolf jerked up, threw the memory eater off, and caressed his ears as he glared at his 'attacker'.

Disheartened by the look, the memory eater asked softly, "Cannot have memories?"

"No! And you can't have my ears either!" The Wolf stood, growled at him.

Suddenly low to the ground and whimpering, the memory eater slunk to the bed, slipped underneath. "…Just want to be friendly… And hungry… So hungry…" He poked his snout out before whispering, "I want pinecone."

* * *

Luckily, Red's house was not too far from a small pine tree, and not-Hansel gladly went to pick some for the memory eater. For some reason, he seemed to be enjoying taking care of the Wolf's copy, but the memory eater still was wary of the mirror man.

Arranging the pinecones at the foot of the bed, not-Hansel peered underneath, saw the wide and wary eyes of the memory eater, "Hello? Do you want to eat? I brought food…"

"…Poison?"

"No, I didn't poison it."

"…No trust."

"You don't trust me?"

"Snake man hurt ears." The memory eater put a paw to his ear to illustrate what he meant.

"Ah… yes… I just needed to scare you so you wouldn't go after my original's Gretel."

"Gretel?"

"The girl memory."

"Ah! Gretel! I… don't like name. I call… girl."

"Fine, you can call her 'girl', but you still need to eat." Not-Hansel took a pinecone, threw it under.

The memory eater lunged for it, snapped it up, and swallowed it happily before losing the air of satisfaction and glaring at not-Hansel, "If die, it poison."

"I promise you that it is not poison."

The memory eater stared at him before nodding, hurrying out from under the bed, grabbing all the pinecones, and dragging them back under. Not-Hansel, a bit disappointed, bent down again to watch the memory eater, "Must you stay under there?"

"Warm and dark." The sound of crunching pinecone leaves sounded.

"…But… it kind of looks cramped…"

"…Make digestion go faster."

"What?" asked not-Hansel, startled and dumbfounded. "How does- Wait! That makes no sense!"

* * *

Red found that night a very odd one. The memory eater, torn between her and the Wolf, would run out, come back in, run out again, and then just hide beneath the bed whenever the Wolf chased him away. Also, not-Hansel started to grow hungry, and lost his friendliness in the way of hunger. After griping and moaning for quite a few minutes, he was allowed to go hunting by the Wolf.

Moaning, the Wolf slumped down on the bed, the memory eater sniffing at his feet, and grunted, "I hate this _so_ much. There's a 'snake Hansel' and there's," He sat up, glared down at the memory eater's snout as the copy licked his feet, "this thing, and… I just want things to be _normal_ again."

The memory eater grabbed his foot, hugged it happily, "I'm normal?"

"No, you're not."

Slowly, the memory eater turned so he could peer up at the Wolf's face, "Why no?"

"'Cause you've been going around eating my… memories…"

"…I will no eat girl memory and Peter memory, no worry."

"That's… not what I'm worried about."

"No? Then?"

The Wolf sighed, "Nothing." Turning, he lay down, grabbed a pillow, and stuffed his face into the soft cloth of the comforter.

Curious, the memory eater pulled himself out from underneath the bed, crawled around the bed, and whispered to Red, "… I do something bad to original?"

"No, he's just-"

"Miserable." Finished the Wolf. "My son has a broken leg, I have an annoyance in the form of a mirror Hansel, and now I have a copy of me following me around and trying to lick me to death. It's rather unnerving." He glared up, latched annoyed eyes on the memory eater.

Red huffed, reached over, and petted his head, "Don't be. The… Hansel thing is working on getting the real Hansel back, remember?"

"Yes, yes… But the real Hansel was a lot easier to annoy."

Red froze before rapping him on the head angrily, "Is that why you want him back? Just to annoy him?"

"It's… fun."

"Ah! That's horrible!" Red crossed her arms, slid back against the pillow to fume.

Peter found her side, put his head on her stomach, "Mm… Papa, don't make Marie sad…"

The memory eater nodded decidedly, "Yes. No making girl memory sad… And Marie? That name? Thought it was Gretel." He peered around Red at Peter, cocking his head in curiosity.

"It's Marie." Sniffled Peter.

"But why-"

The Wolf started chuckling, "And we're having an argument over names? Oh, let's see… I think we should call her Red."

Confused, the memory eater said weakly, "But… mirror man say Gretel, Peter memory say Marie, and original say… Red…" He put his heads into his hands, moaning as a headache forced itself onto him, "It confuses!"

Peter hugged Red's arm, "She's Marie! That's her _real_ name! Red and Gretel are just nicknames, aren't they, papa?"

"Yes, they are, Peter." Laughed the Wolf, his sullen demeanor gone and replaced with jovial relief. "And I think Red has a whole lot more, doesn't she? Red Riding Hood, _Little_ Red Riding Hood, Red, Marie, Gretel… What will people think of- Oh, yes… And 'girl memory'?" The Wolf cast a curious glance at the memory eater, who nodded joyfully.

"Girl memory. That's… 'nickname' for me to her."

"…And, on that note, we need to teach you how to talk. 'Nickname for me to her'? What kind of demented language is that?"

The memory eater blinked, a bit offended, and then grumbled, "But I talk good… Not practice much. Talk good still. Make understand. Learn words from memories too… Like _modesty_!" The memory eater smiled widely, put a hand to his chest, and said proudly, "Modesty is big word, and I learn it!"

The Wolf rolled his eyes, "Okay then… If you're so smart, then what does –let's see… what should I ask you?- _tintinnabulation_ mean?"

With a squeak, the memory eater whispered, "What? Tin… What the word?"

"Tintinnabulation."

"That a hard word! I know not what means!"

"It means 'like the ringing of bells'. See, we need to teach you how to speak."

"But… never use tinabulatun in normal talk!" complained the memory eater. "That word weird! Never talk like 'I like tinabulatun'!"

"Believe me, you'll be proud if you learn how to talk right. Come with me." The Wolf crooked a finger.

"But-"

"Come." The Wolf ordered bluntly.

Grumbling deep in his throat, ears pressed against his skull, the memory eater slunk after his original. Red caught a few words as he crawled past her. "Never use tinabulatun in normal talk… Me talk good… No teaching need… Original stupid… But smart… Smart to know word ' tinabulatun'…"

Red shook her head, giggling, and then returned to lavish Peter with much-needed affection.

* * *

Not-Hansel returned from his hunt filled and happy, set out at once tinkering with his mirror, whispering loving words to it, promising it many things if it would open and let him extract his original. The Wolf and the memory eater, seated at the opposite side of the kitchen, were whispering softly as the Wolf tried to teach his copy correct word usage and grammar.

"_I_ ate the meat."

"_I…_ ate… the… meat… Why must do this? I eat meat I already know!" wailed the memory eater, rather like the indignant school boy who had to do arithmetic when he thought 2 + 2 still equaled five.

"No, we're going to keep doing this until you can speak better." The Wolf crossed his arms, latched a disapproving eye upon his copy, and then said, "Vegetable."

"Veggiable. I know! Girl memory make me get veggiables! This know, me!"

"Vegetable."

The memory eater wilted, "Veggiable."

Not-Hansel glanced up from his mirror, his eyes bright and reflective, "You're teaching him words?"

"…Well… I can't really teach Peter anything about grammar other than by speaking to him, so I thought that I could give it a try with him…" The Wolf jerked a thumb at the memory eater.

"Don't need, this 'gramoor' thing…" grumbled the memory eater, fidgeting with his claws, "Need to just talk. Get better not this way. Get better by talking own way."

"No, you won't." said the Wolf in a soft tone, a tone a father instructing a fidgety boy would use. "Now… say vegetable."

"Veggi-"

"No!" hissed the Wolf, making the memory eater cower back in his seat. Realizing his harsh voice, the Wolf forced himself to calm down before muttering, "Say my name."

"…But…" the memoy eater hesitated.

"You know it, right? I mean, you should."

"…Icarus."

"Good. I'm just happy you're not saying 'Icharius' or something." The Wolf put a hand to his pounding head and groaned, "And thank you for not doing that, or you would have changed my headache to a migraine."

* * *

That night, the Wolf, Peter, and Red shared the bed. The memory eater, a bit put-out about not being allowed to have a place next to his girl memory or his original, settled with stealing a pillow, curling up around it in the corner, and falling to sleep quickly after telling himself a story of 'how good he really was at talking'. Not-Hansel came in around midnight, yawning, and, not caring a bit, slumped over the memory eater and lay snoring softly there till morning.

The memory eater woke up first, excited for a new day of stalking his original and eating. In the process, not-Hansel woke up too.

"Stupid beasty…" muttered not-Hansel, stroking his mirror gently as the memory eater cowered in the corner, suffering from a hurting nose. "Can't even let a friend sleep…" He threw a harsh glance at the creature.

"No hit…" whimpered the memory eater. "Hit is bad. No bad."

"… Shut up… I'm tired."

"...But… I only wake me up… You sleep on, if wanted to…"

"You threw me across the room in the process!" snarled not-Hansel, infuriated.

"…But… Did not mean to…" Sullen, the memory eater stood, stumbled over to the table, and leaned against it. "Please be not angry."

With a sigh, not-Hansel grunted, "I'm not angry… It's just I could do with a few hours of rest before I go back into my mirror… I guess you don't know the mirror world, but it's hell compared to here."

"…What's… 'hell'?"

Not-Hansel stared at him before shrugging, "A bad place… Now… See this mirror?" He held it up, smiled when the memory eater nodded hesitantly, "This is my home. This breaks, I get very sad, and I might break too... And I'll break you along with me."

"...Why not break bad mirror and kill the… 'hell'?"

"It doesn't work that way, okay?"

"Oh… Okay… Can I see mirror?" The memory eater held out his hands, eyes curious.

Instantly, not-Hansel was on guard, "What… are you going to do with it?"

"…Look."

"…I don't think so… Maybe later, okay, but not now." Not-Hansel set it down on the table, glared at it, and then stood with a mutter, "They won't wake up… I want some of that porridge stuff for my last meal here… I'm going to go wake them up, okay, so _don't_ touch my mirror." He turned, stormed from the room.

Immediately, the memory eater had the mirror in his hands, turning it, gazing at his reflection, grooming himself as he said proudly, "Good looks. Very handsome, no? Yes, yes! Handsome!" He snickered, thinking himself funny, and then tapped at the surface of the mirror, wondering if his reflection was another being, something like the mirror man. "Hello? Are you living? Can talk too, like me?"

His reflection stared back at him, mirroring his every move.

Sighing, the memory eater set it on the ground at his side, grumpily crossed his arms, and sulked. Even his reflection would not speak to him. Was he that bad a person?

Not-Hansel appeared at the door, Red following him sleepily. Grumbling, the girl made her way to the counter, the mirror creature weaving side to side behind her as he cooed, "You will make porridge for me, please? Just a little, nothing much, but I do like _lots_ of sugar, if you don't mind."

"…You told me that in the bedroom." Grumbled Red, her eyes droopy with weariness. "And Peter kept me awake last night…"

"…Mm… And this has to do with my porridge _how_?"

Red glared at him, "Why does _everyone_ here think with their stomach? It's a bit unnerving, you know."

"I'm made of hunger. Now, make me porridge. Then I can go back home and get my original back out here where he belongs."

"…Fine. I'll make the stupid porridge…" Slowly, Red opened the cupboard, began to pull stuff out of it.

Not-Hansel smiled pointedly, turned, and took a step towards the table, oblivious to the mirror that was laying on the floor. Before the memory could squeak a warning, he stepped forward.

A small crack snapped out, and, the next moment, not-Hansel was laying on the floor, hissing softly through his sobs, "No! No! My mirror!"

The memory eater craned his neck to see the small mirror in not-Hansel's hands, a long crack running down its middle. With a gulp, he scooted away. "Um… You broked it."

"…_I_ broke it...?" Not-Hansel stiffened before glaring up. The memory eater squeaked when he saw the mirror man's face, for a long black crack ran down across the left eye, which had turned from its icy blue to a cold, hard green.

Red stared, "Are… you okay?"

"…My mirror's usable, but _never_ touch my mirror again, beasty." With an angry growl, not-Hansel staggered up, the mirror clutched to his chest. Glaring at the memory eater, he bared his teeth, stalked to the table, and slumped down into a chair before whispering, "Is my face cracked?" He glanced down, pulled at the buttons, and opened the front of his shirt to reveal a dark crack running diagonally down his chest. "It is here."

"…Your eye is." Said Red softly, still staring at him.

"Ah…" Not-Hansel raised a finger, pulled at the grayish, scaly eyelid, and then sighed, "Mm… There's goes my appearance…"

Shivering, the memory eater asked, "Snake underneath?"

"Yes, and if you _ever_ touch my mirror again, I will show you it… or at least the inside." Not-Hansel licked his lips, glowered at the memory eater.

The memory eater squeaked, scrambled over to Red, and cowered behind her, "No let mirror man eat me."

Red rolled her eyes, "I won't."

Not-Hansel smirked, "Now, now… All I need is my porridge… And then I'll be on my way back, back to my home…." He shuddered with delight at the thought.

* * *

The porridge that Red made for not-Hansel was extremely watery and rather disgusting, but not-Hansel gobbled it up with half a sack of sugar before falling fast asleep on the table. The memory eater stole the mirror away once more, intent on figuring out the secrets of what lay beneath not-Hansel's exterior.

Peeling a shard of mirrored glass away, he glanced up at not-Hansel to see part of the mirror man's neck vanish. Grimacing, he grunted, "Why must mirror man be snake? Snake is bad."

Red was trying to work up her courage, having taken a rough wooden spoon and waving it in front of not-Hansel's face. Finally, she poked the butt of the handle against the scaly part of the neck, earning a loud snort from the sleeping man.

"Mm… No… I don't want to wake up yet… Stop…"

The memory eater stuck a claw underneath a new shard, pulled it up, and then squeaked as not-Hansel's left hand lengthened, the fingers growing longer as the fingernails extended to turn into sharp, black claws.

"…Um… I might… stop doing that…" suggesting Red.

"But fun." Defended the memory eater, leaning forward to inspect the changed hand.

"You're going to break the mirror and the real Hansel won't be able to get out."

"…So?"

Red cast a withering glare at him, "I wouldn't like that. Yes, he's an idiot sometimes, but he's still," She paused, thought, and grumbled, "My _half_-brother."

"…Oh." The memory eater quickly set the mirror down. "Would you be angry at I?"

"Very angry." Scolded Red, trying to keep a sudden grin from her face.

Shuddering, the memory eater scrambled up, "I promise not to do. No be mad!"

"I won't." Red tapped his head.

Suddenly, she lay squeaking under him as he licked at her face joyfully, "Hug! Hug!"

"Ah! Get off! Get off!" Red pushed at his snout, trying to get him off.

"…But I want hug."

"But get off!" squeaked Red, trying to push him away.

"…Mmm… No." With a little snuffle, the memory eater settled down, put his head to her chest, and closed his eyes, "I sleep, so no move."

"What? Don't you dare fall asleep! I am not a pillow!"

"Hmm… But… I like…" The memory eater growled happily before worming a hand up to her face, stroking her cheek gently, "lots."

Sighing, Red stopped wiggling, groaned as the memory eater continued his grooming, "…Will you please get off?"

"No, 'cause I want pillow that is you."

"Fine…" Red grumbled.

* * *

Not-Hansel woke up an hour later, grunting softly as he turned icy eyes up and around as he reeled in his dreams to replace them with thoughts. Was he still in the original world? He was, so that meant that his mirror needed to be opened…

What a great day to go back home!

Happily, he stood up, took a step forward, and then stopped to glance down at his legs. For some reason, they were numb…

He shrugged inwardly to himself before bending down, grabbing up his mirror, and then staring at it as little shards of glass slid off to tinkle down upon the ground. Instantly, an angry snarl ripped out of his throat, and he turned to glower at the memory eater, who lay atop of a dozing Red as he slept.

Creeping over, he sat on the memory eater's back, settled down, and, placing the mirror against the memory eater's back, concentrated before bending, sliding his black tongue out of his mouth and into the mirror. The memory eater flinched before calming.

Not-Hansel withdrew his tongue, which was now covered in dark blood, and savored the taste before bringing the mirror up to his lips, spitting some bloody saliva, and smiling widely as it sparkled under the spit. "…Now, now… Won't you please open up for me?"The mirror shuddered in his hands before the crack running down its middle narrowed.

"I'll fix you if you do… Come on, a simple little door back to the mirror world… That's all I ask for…"

The crack narrowed again, and not-Hansel's appearance suddenly became more normal, the only thing 'wrong' on him being the black crack on his face.

"Almost… That's it… Just a little more…" He stroked the side of the mirror, breathing softly onto it.

With a small screech, the two halves of the glass connected, and not-Hansel grinned as he saw the tell-tale shimmer of his mirror opening up and felt the soft breath of cold air that wafted through with the smell of his homeland.

Ah… Almost home…

* * *

Red snorted awake, sore and weary as she sat up. She lay atop the Wolf, who was snoring softly as he scratched idly at his chest, grunting in his dream.

"No… Not there, Red… You're pulling hard… Combing is supposed to… keep in the fur, dummy… God, I'm bald…"

Red squawked as he turned, grumbling, and slid off of him before realizing that they lay in the snow. Hastily glancing around, she shivered instinctively before reaching back, shaking the Wolf, "Hey, hey! Wake up! Wake up!"

Snarling softly in his sleep, the Wolf hissed, "No! Peter! Stop playing with the idiotic bunny!"

"Wolf! Wake up!"

The Wolf stilled before his eyes flickered open. Groaning, he rubbed his head, sat up, and grunted, "Why'd you wake me? Going to pull out all my fur like in my dream?" He glared at her.

"Where are we?"

"Huh? Oh… Outside?" The Wolf glanced up and around before shrugging, laying back down. However, after a few seconds, he sat back up, startled, and turned to stare at the snow under him, "It's not cold?"

Red nodded slowly, "I… have no idea where we are…"

"…Probably another dream." Grunting, the Wolf lay back down, closed his eyes, and settled down into the snow.

He yelped when the white book plopped down on his stomach. Grabbing it up, he glowered at it before tossing it to Red, "You read it."

Red caught the book, which was entitled _Read Me_, and scanned the first page.

The words were already printed out onto the page in clear, inked text, 'You're in the mirror. Don't make loud noises.'

"Uh… Wolf?"

"What?" asked the Wolf grumpily.

"It says… we're in the mirror."

Instantly, the Wolf stood, dragged her up, and whispered, "We're in the _mirror_? Please tell me you're joking!"

"…That's what the… book says…"

"No! That can't be right! How can that be- That Hansel thing did this!" Furious, the Wolf hissed loudly, fur standing on end, and stormed away before stopping, turning, and stomping back, "Where's the book? I need to ask it something."

Gulping, Red held out the book, watched as the Wolf snatched it away, and turned as the Wolf flipped it open and began to browse through the words furiously. The trees' bark didn't seem to be rough, the leaves were all the same, perfect shape, and the snowflakes seemed to be falling in definable patterns. Sniffling, she tried to think where Peter was and how he was faring.

The Wolf's silent curse brought her back to reality. "Blasted! We really are in here! Shoot!" He snarled softly before pushing the book into his pocket and whispering, "And I would do what it said. No loud noises. And there are lots and lots of carnivores, according to the Hansel thing."

"And you trust him on that?"

"You didn't get a chance to see him eating rabbits, did you?"

"What? Was it-"

"Utterly disgusting. I _hate_ snakes, and I _hate_ mirror creatures, so I hated watching him."

"I could guess."

"No, you should _know_ and – What was that?" The Wolf's ears suddenly perked, and he stared out into the trees with a look of pure nervousness on his face.

Red spun, tried to see what he had seen, but saw nothing. "What?"

"There was… Something…" The Wolf shivered, grabbed Red, and pulled her back against him.

A little shape hopped from the bushes. Behind trailed a small string of yarn, which had little shiny pieces of metal attached to it.

"…Is that," Red hesitated, "a rabbit?"

The dog-sized 'rabbit' thing was long and lithe, its ears ragged and torn. Beady eyes regarded the two trespassers before it crouched, its elongated arms pushing down into the snow as it bared sharp teeth and hissed.

Red and the Wolf stood still, frozen in surprise, and the rabbit slowly calmed before twisting around, readjusting the yarn tied to its tail, and then slinking forward. The little pieces of metal clinked against each other.

A little mouse dug up from under the snow, nose running, eyes curious. Instantly, the rabbit flattened, its little tail flicking the string, attracting the mouse's attention.

The Wolf stepped back, dragging Red with him, "Carnivorous rabbit. Step back."

The mouse hurried forward, oblivious to the danger, entirely focused upon the flashing glints it thought was food. However, the instant it was within reach, the rabbit whirled around, cuffed it over the head harshly, and, before the dazed mouse could recover, had the mouse in its jaws. Glaring at the two with an almost smug look on its face, it turned and fled, its yarn spinning wildly behind him.

Red stared in horror before yelping as the Wolf pulled her closer to him. "My God… I hate this place already, and I've only seen one thing…"

"…Did that rabbit… just…" Red staggered back, suddenly faint, and slumped against the Wolf, "The rabbit ate the mouse?"

"...Let's get somewhere safe." The Wolf took the book from his pocket, glanced at the cover, and sighed, "Well… The book is always one step in front of me, isn't it?"

Red glanced at it, saw that it had changed its title once again. "_Maps?"_

"Well… Let's see…" The Wolf flipped to the first page, read for a moment, and then pointed to his left, "We need to go that way."


	51. Irit

The mirror world was an exact reflection of the real one, except the mirror world had some significant lacking points. For one thing, the trees were smooth, the curves and bumps 'painted' onto the surface, and the leaves were all exactly the same.

When Red and the Wolf reached the town, they were surprised to find that the houses were not even _houses_, but just hastily carved blocks of wood, not even colored.

Tapping at the side of a 'house', the Wolf sniffed, "Wonder if your house is in the same place."

Red glared miserably down the empty, dark street, "How are we going to get out?"

"Don't know." The Wolf pushed a claw into a crack, peeled off a small sliver of wood, and then flicked it away. "And the book won't tell me. So… I guess we're just going to have find out ourselves…" He glanced back before sighing, "And I'm _hungry_. Do you think there're any _normal_ rabbits around here?"

"Probably not." Grumbled Red, sitting down in the snow.

The Wolf grunted, sat down, and pulled her to him, "I know it's not cold, but the snow is making me cold."

"…It's not cold."

"I know, but… I'm used to seeing snow when I'm cold, so I'm cold…"

"Well, that's… really helpful…" Red said sarcastically.

The Wolf groaned, shivered, and then pushed her away, "I feel useless. I need to do something. Let's… walk or something."

"Walk?"

"Explore? What do you want to do? I need to do _something_."

"Well… We can go see if my house is still there, if you want…" Red shrugged uncertainly.

"That's what we'll do then." The Wolf stood, helped her up, and, without another word, started down the street.

* * *

They were halfway across the town when Red saw the little shadow following them for the first time. Stopping, she stared back before whispering, "Wolf?"

"Hmm…?" The Wolf was caressing his belly, trying to ease the soft pain of hunger that had settled into his stomach.

"There's something following us."

"Oh…" The Wolf glanced back, sighed, "Well… it's not attacking us, so let's not instigate a battle. Just keep walking." He pushed her forward gently, ears swiveling around towards the shadow.

Staying in the shadows, the dark form hissed softly before scrambling under the raised base of a house and disappearing. Red paused before gulping, continuing.

The appearance of the little shadow was just the start. Within the next five minutes, she saw more than five shadows crawling over the roofs of the house, crouching and ducking out of sight whenever Red and the Wolf glanced up to see them. Small whispers made their way to Red's ears.

"…They're originals…"

"What are they doing here?"

"I have no idea… Who's do you think they are?"

"… I have no idea… But they're fair game till their reflections come…" The voice suddenly grew harsh with hunger and lust.

Red shivered, but the Wolf instantly stood behind her, his warm body bumping up against her back as he whispered, "Pay no attention to them."

"Pay us all attention…" came a muttering reply. "Then we'll have more fun when we eat…"

The Wolf put soft paws over Red's ears, "Don't listen to them."

"Listen… We want to see your eyes when we come down to feast…"

With a growl, the Wolf latched eyes on the nearest roof, where a shadow had just ducked down a moment before, and hissed, "Will you shut up?"

There came only silence.

The Wolf grumbled, pushed her forward hurriedly, "We shouldn't wait around. Those shadow-things are hungry."

"…I… kind of… saw…"

"Yes, so keep going _forward_." Snuffling, the Wolf stopped before turning her by the shoulders, directing her down a narrow alleyway."You sure we're going the right way?"

"…Not really, but we're going away from those things."

"Why?" came a catcall.

The Wolf stopped, glanced behind his shoulder, and shuddered, "Can they hear everything?"

"Well, not everything." Lilted a quiet voice from further down the alley.

Jerking his head back forward, the Wolf hissed softly when he saw a tall but stooped man leaning against the wall, dragging his finger through the snow. Turning dull black eyes towards the two, he smiled sharply, bright white teeth standing out in his dark face, "The locusts bothering you?"

"Who're you?" snarled the Wolf, pulling Red so that his body blocked the man's view of her.

"Nobody in particular, but a friend of her reflection." The man smirked as he motioned at Red, "And she is busy at the minute, so she sent me here to fetch her, but I didn't know that there was to be another with her."

The Wolf's ears twitched back against his skull as he heard the soft voices of the shadows, "...Leave the furry one here…"

With a grin, the man straightened, pulled the wrinkles out of his dirty, long black coat, and motioned, "If you want to be rid of the pests, I would come this way. They stay here most of the time, so they won't follow us… And, besides, if they do follow us," Putting a hand to his mouth, he shouted, "I can catch one for my dinner!"

The shadows' frightened murmurs came, and the Wolf and Red saw a shadow bound away from across the street.

Chuckling, the man saluted, "Well, will you come with me or not? I want this to be peaceful, and I think that my friend will not appreciate it if her original's broken in any way."

Red stared at the man before, after a hesitant gulp, asking, "…How can we trust you…? And… are you a… monster too?"

"Well, seeing that I'm not trying to devour you at the moment, I would trust me. Also, what would define a _monster _as?"

"…Well… do you eat… people?"

"I won't answer that, but I will say that I could, if I wanted to." Replied the man in a friendly tone.

The Wolf gazed at him, mulling this man over, and then nodded, "We'll come with you…"

"Good!" The man clapped his hands before pausing, blinking, and then coming closer to peer at Red, "Tell me: off the top of yer head, what do you think your reflection is like?"

"…Uh… Nice…?" Red stared back at him.

"Oh ho!" Snickering, the man extended a hand, "Well, I would say she's anything but nice, but enough of that. My name is… Well, you can call me Irit."

"Irit?"

"Best name I could come up at the moment… So, we're going?" Irit motioned at Red, ushering her down the alley.

The Wolf hurried after them, grimacing. He really did not want to be left behind with locusts that were fond of devouring strangers that passed into their town…

* * *

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Why won't you tell us?"

With a snort, Irit glared back at Red and grumbled, "You just won't shut up now, will you? I said 'You'll see'!"

"But why won't you tell us?" sniffed Red, trudging sullenly behind him. After an hour of walking, she was tired and wanted nothing more than to sit down to rest.

"Because then I'll have to tell you about your reflection, and you'll have your hopes all high, and… You'll be very, very disappointed when she chews you out."

"…So my reflection is-"

"Scary? Nah… Goat's can never be scary… She's more… stubborn."

Red froze before stumbling as the Wolf bumped into her back. Blinking, she asked incredulously, "My reflection's a _goat_?"

"Or a deer. Something like that, with hooves, but stubborn, stubborn, _stubborn_! I am not kidding! She could out-argue anyone!"

The Wolf pursed his lips before muttering, "She should have been Hansel's reflection then… He's way more stubborn than her!"

"It doesn't matter. It's randomly selected."

"…Do you know who mine is then?" asked the Wolf softly, fur raising on end.

Biting a dark lip, Irit glowered at the Wolf before shaking his head, "I'd rather not tell you, but, by the way he seems to figure things out, he'll be coming for you soon, and we need to _keep_ you away from him, that's all I'll say. He'll be able to feel you now that you're in here… So that's why we need to lay low."

"So my reflection is dangerous?"

With a soft moan, Irit grabbed his head, cradled it, and whispered, "I've already said too much… No talking about reflections anymore, please… Let's talk about something else, like the weather!" He turned, threw his arms into the air, and cheerfully said, "Is it snowing up there in the real world? If it is, is it really cold?"

"Yes, actually, and I was going to ask you about that… Why isn't it cold here?"

"It's just a reflection. No feeling is transferred. That's why reflections don't act like their originals." Licking his lips, Irit stopped, turned, bent over to peer into Red's face, and grinned, "Especially yours. Compared to her, you could be a snowflake." He straightened, glared at the Wolf, "And you are an angel compared to-"

Red shrieked as not-Hansel plowed into Irit's side. Yelping, Irit fell to the ground as not-Hansel's black cobra tongue weaved out of his mouth, mouth open, fangs bared, and eyes glazed with rage.

As suddenly as it had started, the movement ceased, and Red stared at the frozen forms of not-Hansel and Irit. Not-Hansel's tongue's fangs were pressed against Irit's jugular. However, a nasty-looking yellowish tail curled up from under Irit's disgusting black coat, its sharp stinger pressed against not-Hansel's head.

"You bite, I sting, and we both die." Hissed Irit, his stinger twitching at the blonde hair that covered not-Hansel's head.

With a small snort, not-Hansel grunted, "And I let you kill them both? I don't think so!"

"I'm taking them to the girl's reflection."

"How do I know that's true?"

Opening his mouth, Irit let two yellow-brown mandibles poke out as he snarled harshly, "You think I would have kept them alive so far? You know me, snake… You know my species… I would have eaten them if I had nothing to do with them." The stinger twitched, and not-Hansel flinched as the sharp tip scratched against his scalp.

Gulping, not-Hansel whispered, "Promise you're telling the truth?"

"Willing to die for no particular reason? Of course I'm telling the truth!" Irit brought his hands up, pushed gruffly against not-Hansel's shoulders.

Slowly, not-Hansel retracted his tongue, waited for Irit to withdraw his tail. With a small grin, Irit let his tail withdraw back to its hiding place before whispering, "Now you let me up."

Not-Hansel scrambled up quickly, backed away as Irit pulled himself up, the two mandibles pulling back into his mouth. Shuddering, Red asked, "…So…. You're a-"

"Scorpion, yes." Irit straightened his coat, hiccupped, and then latched an angry eye upon not-Hansel, "They're coming _with_ me."

"…Well… After she sees her reflection, you have to let me take them to _my_ home, because I need to show my original she's okay…"

"I'm willing to do whatever you want as long as I get her," Irit pointed at Red, "to her reflection. After that, I have no more care what happens to them."

"…Oh… What's important about her reflection?"

Suddenly, Irit was blushing furiously, trying to hide the red-pink tinge that covered his cheeks. "It's nothing…"

The Wolf bent, muttered into Red's ear, "He likes your reflection. You can tell that, can't you?"

Red nodded, whispered back, "Yes."

"What are you talking about?" asked Irit in a forced voice, his hands trying to cover his blush.

"Nothing." Said the Wolf quickly.

"Fine then!" Snapping about, Irit stormed forward, "And we should have been there by now! I swear, I should just eat the extras and take the girl there myself! All too slow!"

Not-Hansel started to follow him, about to argue, but squeaked as the Wolf leapt forward, latched his paws onto the man's shoulder, and dragged him back. Turning, not-Hansel stared into the Wolf's furious eyes as he snarled, "And what about us? I thought I said to send _yourself _back through the mirror and bring the _real_ Hansel back, not land us_ all_ here in this backwards world!"

In a weak voice, not-Hansel whimpered, "But there was a problem!"

* * *

For the next hour, Irit led the way through the trees, grumbling to himself, angrily cursing not-Hansel under his breath. The Wolf had also become angry at the mirror man because of the incoherent, twisting explanation not-Hansel had given for the reason he had to bring them all in. For this, he had to suffer random cuffs over the head, generously and harshly laid out by the Wolf.

When they finally reached the small grove of trees that Irit had been looking for, the scorpion flew into a rage when he found no one there.

"She said she would wait for me here!" he howled, clawing at his head as his tantrum erupted. Behind him, not-Hansel, the Wolf, and Red stayed back, a safe distance away. Staggering forward, he bumped into a tree, fell against it, and hit at it angrily, screeching his anger.

As Red openly stared, the Wolf leaned to not-Hansel, his anger momentarily forgotten, and asked, "… You seem to know him… Is he usually like this?"

"…Well… He's usually trying to eat me… But I've seen him get all angry like this after he figures out he can't catch me or he can't break down my door…."

"So I guess Red's reflection is his weak spot?"

"'Red's reflection' is a _deer_, and a hyperactive, very… bipolar one at that…. Let's just say that I'd be surprised if she stayed in one place for more than two minutes. Makes it really hard to track her down…" Not-Hansel glanced down, itched at his stomach, and sniffed softly.

Rolling his eyes, the Wolf whispered, "You tried to catch it, didn't you?"

"…She won't fight… And she would be a good meal…Bigger than the rabbits at least…" grumbled not-Hansel, petting his belly as he grimaced.

The Wolf groaned, "I hate this world. Everybody is 'I want to eat my neighbor'."

Not-Hansel glowered at him, "I wouldn't make fun of the reason that I have to hunt to survive."

"But you're _always_ talking about it."

Enraged, not-Hansel snapped, "No, I'm-"

Whirling towards them, Irit snarled, "Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up! For goodness sakes! Snake, take them away! Her reflection isn't here to collect, so they're no use to me, and… ah… I feel… betrayed…" Slumping, he sobbed dryly.

Not-Hansel grabbed Red by the shoulders, hissed, "We're going! We're going!" Glaring at the Wolf, he added hastily, "You don't want to be here when he realizes he has no more use for the three of us and decides he wants his dinner."

The Wolf nodded, deciding to listen to not-Hansel. After all, this was the man's home territory, and he seemed to know the dos-and-don'ts of this horrible world.

* * *

Not-Hansel hurried them away from the angry Irit and led them through the forest, backtracking several times whenever he scented another mirror creature. After an hour and a half of walking and sneaking about, not-Hansel finally stopped, blinked, and bounded forward to a large mound nestled between two trees. While Red and the Wolf watched, a bit confused, a bit exhausted, the mirror man dug into the snow, revealing a heavy wooden door. Grinning, he motioned to Red and the Wolf, whispered, "This is my house." With a small chuckle, he gagged, spat a black key into his head, and then pushed it into the lock. He turned it, yanked the door open.

Instantly, his eyes grew round with surprise when he saw the barrel of a dueling pistol held level with his eyes. Teeth bared in a snarl, the real Hansel snarled, "I should blow your brains out, you traitor! How dare you lock me in there with your little br-"

"Papa!" A little boy ran past Hansel's legs, crashed into not-Hansel's legs, and hugged him happily, "You home!"

With an annoyed snarl, Hansel grabbed not-Hansel's collar, pressed the pistol's end against his reflection's forehead, "And he's bloody teething!"

Not-Hansel bent to pick up his little son. Bouncing him in his arms, he smiled, "But he's cute, isn't he?"

"Papa!" squeaked the boy, beaming.

About to retort, Hansel caught sight of Red, shoved his reflection out of the way, and pounced upon her, embracing her as he cooed, "Gretel… You're safe…" He paused, glared back at his reflection, and muttered, "Maybe he isn't a complete idiot after all."

"You said I had to rescue her, or something like that," Murmured not-Hansel, his nose buried into the curly reddish hair of his son, "and so I did. Now I just have to send you all back… And find that beasty before he discovers that he merge with anything he sees here. Send him back too. They're never supposed to come back into the mirror, you know."

"Merge?" sniffed the Wolf.

"You read the book, didn't you?" sighed not-Hansel. "You should read it again. Ask it."

As the Wolf scavenged for the battered white book, not-Hansel motioned to Red, "Well, come in…"

Hansel grabbed her, stopping her from entering, "Watch out for the little brat. He bites… _hard_."

Red smiled at him, a small twitch of relief invading her heart, "Well, as long as he doesn't poison us."

"…No, but…" Hansel bared his teeth before leaning in and whispering, "It eats mice… There's a whole basket of mice in there… And I had to eat one…" He gagged at the memory, the expression on his face causing Red to giggle.

* * *

The instant he had locked the door, not-Hansel settled down on a make-shift, partially broken chair and fell asleep nearly immediately, his son dozing on his chest. This brought about the Wolf's agitation, for he had completely forgotten about Peter in his agitation about being stuck in the mirror world. Now that they were in a relatively safe place, the thought had crept into his mind.

"…Hansel thing…" He whimpered, shaking not-Hansel's shoulder, "Did Peter come through…?"

"Mm…. Stop it…" Not-Hansel licked his lips before snapping his jaws at the air.

With a sigh, Hansel grunted, "There's a way to doing it…. Look." He took hold of his reflection's shoulders, squeezed them tightly, and then hissed softly into not-Hansel's ears.

Instantly, not-Hansel puffed up, face growing red, and sat up with an answering hiss, "Who's that?"

The Wolf stared at not-Hansel before glancing at the original, "…How did you know that?"

"I have a week to practice with the little brat. Infuriates them if they think there's another, not-related snake somewhere close."

Not-Hansel slowly calmed before glaring back at Hansel, "That was a dirty trick."

"The Wolf needs to ask you something?"

"Hmm? Oh? What?" Not-Hansel turned his refracting eyes towards the Wolf.

"…Did Peter come through too?"

"Of _course_ he did." Snorted not-Hansel, "And I put him in a very safe place, let me assure you. I'll take you there to see him tomorrow, if you want, but, if you do, I have to go make arrangements."

"Arrangements?" Bewildered, the Wolf stared at Hansel's reflection before glancing at the original Hansel and whispering, "Why do both of you have to be crazy?"

"We're not!" snarled Hansel and not-Hansel together before freezing, glowering at each other.

"You are going back tonight, if I forgot to mention." Muttered not-Hansel sourly.

"And why not us?" protested Red.

Not-Hansel's face puckered, "He's my original; he can go back through my mirror. However, you have to go back through a general mirror, which is also in the hands of the person who has Peter. You can go back _tomorrow_. He goes back tonight." He pointed at Hansel, who was reddening with rage by the second.

"I am not!"

"You are!"

"Make me!"

Without a warning, not-Hansel lunged up and out of his chair, his son squeaking as he fell to the ground. Grabbing the startled Hansel, the reflection buried his fangs deep into his original's shoulders, kept the man still, and then smirked as Hansel fell limp. He dropped Hansel, lilted, "You're going back _tonight_."

"No fair…" whispered Hansel weakly, struggling to stay awake. "You used poison…"

"I'm a snake. Deal with it." Bending, not-Hansel took Hansel's hands, dragged him to the corner, and, grabbing his little mirror from it hanger on the wall, began to whisper darkly into it.

* * *

After sending Hansel back through the mirror, which just involved touching the mirror to Hansel's head and muttering a few words, not-Hansel let himself out, locked the house from outside, and went hunting. As they waited, Red explored, the Wolf read from the little white book, and not-Hansel's son began to chew on some scraps of fur that were laying in the corner.

"Wolf, do you know what this… used to be?" asked Red, holding up some sort of skull so the Wolf could see.

"…Rabbit, I think." the Wolf replied, a bit distracted by the book.

Grimacing, Red was about comment on how disgusting the rabbit they had seen had been when she felt a small pressure press against her legs. She glanced down, saw not-Hansel's son standing there, a small fold of her skirt in his mouth, his large brown eyes staring up at her.

"…Food…?" he asked quietly, chewing at the cloth.

Red groaned. Hansel had said something about mice, hadn't he? She really didn't want to go anywhere near mice, especially if they might be carnivorous, oversized mice. "…Uh… Wolf?"

"Hmm?" The Wolf turned the page of the book, peered at a small map of the mirror world.

"…The little boy is hungry."

"Feed him."

"What?" asked Red incredulously.

"I smell mice… I guess I would just open up a basket or something and you just set him loose on them."

"That's disgusting!"

The little boy spat out the cloth of her skirt, grabbed her hands, and began to nibble at the tip of her index fingers. "Food."

"No, my hands are not food."

"But… Food?"

"…Fine…" grumbled Red before glaring at the Wolf, "Where are the mice?"

"Somewhere in that corner." Said the Wolf, pointing to the corner behind Red. "It's where the smell is coming from."

"Oh. Okay… Show me where your food is, okay?" Red jerked her fingers from the boy's mouth, took his hand, and led him towards the corner.

The boy put a thumb into his mouth, sucked at it, and then giggled gleefully as he pulled her over to a wicker basket that was weighted down with books and unused eating utensils, "Food box!"

"…Oh. Uh…" Red stared at the box apprehensively, noticing that it was jiggling from side to side a bit. "…Wolf?"

"What?" Irate, the Wolf set the book down, glared at her.

"… Can you get a mouse out for him…?"

"Why can't you do it?"

"I don't want to touch a mouse!" said Red indignantly.

"Just open it and let him get his own."

Red gulped, nodded, and then forced herself to lift some of the books up off of the basket's lid. Instantly, the lid bobbed up, and a small gray head poked out as the mouse sensed an opportunity to escape. Before Red could react, it pulled itself out, dropped to the floor, and scampered towards the opposite wall.

She shrieked, dropped the books before another mouse could escaped, and watched in horror as the little boy ran after it, giggling, "Food! Food!"

The Wolf stared at the boy as he caught up to the little mouse, pounced on it, and then held it up victoriously in his dirty, small hands. Without a second thought, the boy crammed it into his mouth, choked it down as his body shivered in pleasure, and then sat down as it cleared his airway. Happily, he clapped, "Food!"

The Wolf gulped at the horrid display, turned to see how Red was faring, and saw her faint upon the floor.


	52. Into the Spider's Den

The rest of the day passed quietly, not-Hansel returning with a large pheasant for the Wolf and two small apples for Red. After eating, the two weary originals fell straight to sleep, curled up around each other in the corner.

The Wolf dreamed of Peter. In his dream, he saw his son, sitting in the snow, cheerfully playing with a small cloth toy. Glancing up, the little blonde wolf smiled joyously, "Papa!" The eyes were clear and bright, able to see once more, delighted. The Wolf could have died with happiness, especially when Peter scrambled up and over to hug his leg happily. "Where'd you go, Papa? I didn't know where you went!"

The Wolf was bending down, ready to bless his son with a gentle, loving hug, when the voice came. "Hey! Wake up! Come on, you big pile of fur!"

Instantly, the dream of Peter, bright and healed, pulled away, and the Wolf slowly blinked awake. Not-Hansel knelt beside him, a frantic look on his face.

"Good! You're awake!" Not-Hansel leapt up, began to nudge Red with his foot, "And you! Wake up! Wake up!"

"Mmm…" Red curled up, wanting to stay asleep.

"Wake up! I'm taking you guys to Peter and then I'm going to send you back through the mirrors." Not-Hansel turned, scooped up his little son, and bounced him up and down in his arms before setting him on the lopsided chair. Bending down, he whispered into his son's ear before patting him on the head, grabbing his palm-sized mirror from the wall, and cheering, "On our way before that bloody scorpion comes back, if you please!"

The Wolf blinked as he sat up. After a brief yawn, he grumbled sleepily, "Scorpion…?"

"Irit came by this morning…" Not-Hansel shuffled uncomfortably. "He tried to break in… But the door's solid oak, and he went away after throwing another one of his tantrums."

"Why did he come-"

Not-Hansel bared his teeth, "Because he'd be more than happy to-" He stopped, stiffening, and then glanced at the door. "Well, you can ask him yourself."

The Wolf stood, "He's here?"

"Lurking outside." Not-Hansel grimaced, went closer to the door, and then pressed his ear against the wood. Concentrating for a bit, he then nodded, "He's there." He drew back, called, "Irit! We know you're out there!"

For a few moments, there was silence, and then Irit's voice grumbled, "You wouldn't answer me… Where are you taking them?"

"I'm not going to tell you, Irit… Now, get away from my house. If I haven't arrived at the time I told them I would be there, they're going to send soldiers." Not-Hansel crossed his arms, glowered at the door.

Instantly, the door shuddered as Irit threw himself against it furiously, "I knew it! You're taking them to cousin, aren't you?"

Not-Hansel glowered at the door, "Your _cousin _has the big mirror, Irit. That's what we need to send them back home."

"There's other 'big mirrors'! You're not taking them there to-" Irit's voice stopped before he hissed softly.

A new voice came, low and grating, "Oh… It's you…"

The sound of scrambling feet crept through under of the crack of the door before Irit's soft voice growled, "You can't have them."

"Orders." Said another threatening voice.

Irit whined, "There's nothing to do with them! Nothing! There is no reason to take them to him!"

Not-Hansel rolled his refracted eyes, called, "Don't even try, Irit! We're going there, no matter what!"

The two new voices outside were joined by a third, which jeered, "Yes! What say you, brothers, and we have ourselves a scorpion?"

Irit's voice trembled with anger and hesitation, "Don't you dare touch me."

"Then go away," Snarled the three voices, "before we change our minds. We're on duty, three days straight now, and we're hungry!"

With a final snarl, Irit turned and ran, judging by the smacking sound of feet against ice and snow.

Not-Hansel relaxed before calling, "He's gone, right?"

"Yes, snake." Chorused the voices. "Now open the door. We're taking you to the palace."

Hastily, not-Hansel unlocked the door, yanked it open, "Finally!"

Three men in bent, black armor stood on the other side of the door, hungry gray eyes narrowed as they peered into the small hovel. The leader, distinguished by the red handkerchief knotted around his neck, forced a painful grin, "Ready? Got everything?"

Not-Hansel nodded, beckoned towards the staring Wolf and Red, "Come on! We have to go!"

* * *

The three soldiers were grimly silent for the whole voyage, their vacant gray eyes only casting over to the originals to allow an occasional hungry glance. The hunger in their eyes scared Red, who found herself clinging to the Wolf more than once whenever the more aggressive guard, the one with a tattered gray cloth round his face, split away from his companions to bump into her, pinch her, and then hurry back to the two others and whisper fervently to them. She always managed to catch the phrase, "Perfect for the eating."

The Wolf was ignored for the most part, which made him very happy. He was going to see his son, leave this horrid mirror world, and then be safe and warm back at Red's house. The anticipation that built up in him squeezed at his heart, making him long for it more and more, especially if it meant finding even a little tidbit to _eat_. The pheasant that not-Hansel had brought the evening before now seemed nonexistent, and he could feel the beginnings of hunger rip at the edges of his stomach.

Not-Hansel seemed a bit distracted, constantly fidgeting with his fingernails, scraping dirt from underneath them. The Wolf even caught him licking his palms and patting some random strands of hair down.

Pulling closer to the fidgeting mirror man, the Wolf asked quietly, "Who are we going to see?"

Startled, not-Hansel stared up at him, a glint of fear suddenly in his eyes. In a defensive tone, he snarled, "Nobody!"

"Obviously, you're lying. Just the way you're acting shows we're meeting someone you like or you want to impress."

Not-Hansel shuddered before nodding, "The latter."

"So… who is he?"

"… The King…"

"Why are you so nervous then…?" asked the Wolf.

"I can't tell you. It might be considered treason."

The Wolf paused, glared at him, "You're just using that as an excuse, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, now be quiet and hurry up. We're almost there."

* * *

The next ten minutes were spent in silence, the soldiers shooting sly glances at each other as the trees began to clear out, replaced by low, dark brush. Finally, they rounded a small hill and came into view of a dark, rather lopsided castle. Its tall spires poked at the sky while its rounded, arching windows allowed a small amount of artificial light to push through, obviously from torches and oil lamps within. The gate was heavy oak, covered by an iron portcullis and guarded by several soldiers in the same dented armor as the three who were escorting the Wolf and Red.

Instantly, the guards rushed forward, hissing, "Guests, guests! Open the gates! Open the gates!"

Two soldiers appeared atop the stone wall before turning, shouting a command to the courtyard below. With a groan, the portcullis rolled upwards as the gates opened inwards, and the escorting soldiers immediately shouldered Red, the Wolf, and not-Hansel through.

The gate shut behind them.

The inside of the castle was dusty and grimy. The courtyard's walls alone were coated with a fine sheet of black and dark green moss, sprouting small flowers such as edelweiss and other little white blossoms. Everywhere hung spider webs, glistening with snowflakes and frosted dew. The halls were a bit better, but a very thick coat of dust and hay lay across the floor. Red was a bit disgusted to see small black bugs crawling through the mess, but the Wolf directed her attention to the numerous, rather larger-to-usual spider webs scattered everywhere.

Finally, they reached a tall door that had once been plated with gold and bronze; however, there was only dark pits now where the metal had once been attached.

"Stay here." Ordered the captain of the guards before creaking the door open, slipping through.

When Red stepped forward, wanting to peer through the crack, one of the guards blocked her and grunted, "No."

Red stepped back, bumped into the furry chest of the Wolf. Startled, she glanced up into his face before asking, "Is the mirror in there?"

"Either that or the… 'King'."

"The King?"

"The Hansel thing said we had to see the 'King' or something." The Wolf crossed his arms, glowered at not-Hansel.

Not-Hansel returned the glare, "You can't use the mirror without his permission. We have laws too."

"Sure, whatever you say. Tell me these… 'laws'."

Not-Hansel held up a hand, began to count off on his fingers, "Well, number one: we all have to wear our disguises whenever there's an original in our world. Number two: all should hail the King, and the King should respect his people, but that one is, unfortunately," He lowered his voice, "down the drain. Number three: you shall not hunt more than is needed. Number fo-"

The captain pushed the door open, motioned to them, "In."

Not-Hansel smiled grimly before nodding and stepping forward. As he passed Red, he grabbed hold of her hand, whispered, "Try not to look delicious."

The Wolf flinched and stared at him, "Delicious? Are you saying that the King might _eat_ her?"

"Yes, so it would be better if she just stayed back and let us talk. I'm hoping for a peaceful negotiation here, you know." Not-Hansel whispered before tugging her into the room.

The room was huge, carved out of blackish-crimson stone. Overhead, huge spider webs hung, small torches flickering in the web. However, Red's attention was drawn to the center of the opposite wall, where a tall, red stone throne lounged.

With a small whisper, not-Hansel muttered, "Wolf, that's your reflection… I would bow too, if I may say so."

The reflection of the Wolf sat on the throne, his long arms curled around the small blonde blot that was Peter. A dark purple cloak hung over them both, acting more like a blanket than a piece of clothing. Glancing up, the Wolf's reflection gave a small, weary grin, readjusted his hold on Peter, and whispered softly, "Hm… So you've finally come…"

Not-Hansel was about to speak, but, without warning, Wolf bounded forward. Squawking, not-Hansel snarled, "Wolf!"

The guards hissed, started to hurry forward, intent on stopping the original, but the King waved a hand. With a small grin, he sat up as the Wolf neared, "Well… I've never met you before, have I? Very nice to meet you." He extended a hand, his other hand keeping a gentle hold on the sleeping Peter.

The Wolf hesitated, staring at the hand before turning his eyes back to Peter. "Is he okay?"

The King blinked, withdrew his hand, sighed, and then began to caress the little wolf's head. Licking his lips, he bent and sniffed the blonde fur before whispering, "I would say he's fine, except for a few scratches across his back where one of my… soldiers," He cast a withering glance at the guards stationed in the corner, "went out of ranks and tried to have an early dinner…" Chuckling, he continued, "Should have seen him while he writhed, the little trai-" He broke down, coughing, pushed Peter into the Wolf's arms, stood, staggered forward, and then hoarsely called, "Lieutenant…"

Not-Hansel stepped forward, paling, "Yes, sire?"

The King's cloak rustled before eight long, pointed brown legs pushed out from underneath, crooked forward, and grabbed hold of not-Hansel's arms. Pulling the trembling man to him, he hissed, "Where's my stone, lieutenant…?"

The Wolf stiffened, the gray hands that held Peter to his chest clenching. Turning, he stared at not-Hansel, eyes growing wide with surprise, "What?"

Not-Hansel shuddered, "…I went after the… beasty… and the stone is out of reach. I could not-" He squeaked loudly as the claws at the tip of the legs tightened at his chemise.

"What are you saying?" asked the King weakly, angrily, "Out of reach? It's never out of reach! Lieutenant, I need-" He erupted into another fit of coughing, releasing not-Hansel as he turned to mask his hoarse hacking with a clawed hand. The spider legs that sprouted from his back curled, twitching, and then withdrew to hide beneath the cloak once more.

Instantly, not-Hansel was supporting his King, whimpering, "Sire, if I could only use the _big_ mirror, I could-"

The King locked a milky eye onto the mirror man before growling, "Of course you can! Now go!" He shoved his underling away, staggered back to his throne, slumped down, and began to lick his paw slowly.

Not-Hansel snarled silently before turning, heading for the door.

"Wait!" The Wolf snarled, "What about us? What about sending us back to our home?"

Blinking, the King glanced at not-Hansel, who paled to a pasty white and tried to explain, "… They… They wouldn't have come otherwise, sire…"

"What?" shrieked the Wolf, enraged, as Red jerked in surprise.

With a small nod, the King motioned to his guards. Gesturing lazily at the Wolf and Red, he lilted, "Seize them."

Instantly, the guards held the struggling Wolf in their arms, every one of the eight legs that wormed out from under the long, hard leather armor on their back curling up to subdue the original.

Red began to back away, but one single guard detached himself from the group, grabbed her, and held her with no difficulty.

"Make sure not to harm my original…" hissed the King, delighting in the way his guards were struggling to hold down the Wolf, who was twisting, curling up to protect Peter from the sharp tips of the legs. "And bring the girl to me… Lieutenant, you may-" He coughed loudly before adding sullenly, "And bring back my stone, please."

With one last sullen glance at Red and the Wolf, not-Hansel nodded, turned, and fled the room, the Wolf howling hate-filled curses after him as the spider guards finally subdued him, ripping Peter, who had awakened, from him.

Struggling against the guard's rough hold, Peter screeched, "Papa!"

Slumping on the floor, the guards pinioning him with their legs, the Wolf sobbed, "No… Please… Please don't hurt Peter…"

The King ignored him, gazing at Red with ravenous eyes as the guard dragged her forward. The eight legs stirring out from underneath his cloak, he reached forward, grabbed her from the guard, and then dragged her to his lap. Licking his lips, he whispered, "My, my… And just who are you, dear one?"

Red stared up at him, shivered, gulped down a small ball of fear, and stammered, "R-R-Red…"

"Red… Well, Red, how would you like to stay for _dinner_ tonight?" The King's eyes glinted hungrily as he reached up, toyed with a bang of her hair.

Red could tell that he was asking her to stay _as_ dinner by the way his predatory smile widened. Jerking against his arms, she shrieked, "Let me go! No! Let me go!"

With a cooing voice, the King licked her neck, "Now, now…. Please don't struggle… It's not till tonight, after all…" Two brown mandibles, tipped with black fangs, inched out from his mouth, brushed against her neck, and then stilled as they found the main vein that pulsed there. His eyes lit up before he shoved her away, stood, and hissed, "Stop doing that!"

The guards had been yanking at the Peter's tail, causing his sobs to intensify. Hurriedly regrouping, two staying to restrain the helpless original, they saluted, watched their King fearfully.

"Mm… Take him and his son to a room, feed them, lock them in. And if I even hear a whisper that one of you just so much as took a bite, I will tear off your heads, you hear me?" The King flared with sudden rage before erupting into a loud fit of coughing. The bout wore off, and he glared at the specks of blood on his hand before hiding it away in a pocket.

Peter stilled in the guard's arms, eyes watering with tears. Clutching at the alternating leather and metal, he sobbed, "Bad men… Bad men… Papa…" He moaned, causing the Wolf to shiver in worry and want.

The guards nodded, ignoring the little wolf's sobs, and, dragging the Wolf up, carried him and Peter from the room. The only guard that was left was Red's captor.

With a small sigh, the King cast a tired glance at them, "Just take her and get her ready for eating… And don't let Denver see you… He's insisting on feeding me that horrid soup since I'm sick…" He groaned, returned to his throne, and slumped onto it, "He hasn't let me eat anything solid for a while now… Just keep her a secret meal." He chuckled sadly, twirled a finger into the fur on his arm.

Red slumped, the guard's locked arms the only thing keeping her up. Why was there always something or someone wanting to _eat_ her? It wasn't natural, wanting to eat little girls, was it?

The guard nodded before asking hesitantly, "Sir…? How should I-"

"Wash her at least… Make her smell…_ appetizing_." Grunting, the King curled up on his throne, buried his head into his knees. The hair on the spider legs rose on end before they curled around their owner, making a small 'cage' around him. "Now go away…"

The guard voiced an acknowledgement before whirling about, shoving Red forward, and parading her out of the room.

Only then did the King allow himself to peek out of his small refuge, sniffling miserably. Withdrawing a hand from the folds of his cloak, he regarded the small spray of blood upon it with sad eyes and sighed.

* * *

**OOC: Sorry for the very sporadic and nondescriptive updates... I'm hoping that, now that Christmas vacation is over, I'll have more chance to write. Hope all of you had a happy New Years!**


	53. Appetites

The Wolf leaned against the wooden door, tears trickling from his eyes as he moaned, "Give me my Peter… Please…"

The guards had locked him into the room, were taunting him by making the young wolf whimper and cry for 'Papa'. One jeered, "Want him? Why don't you come out and get him?"

"Please… He never did anything to you…" The Wolf whined, pushing against the door, hearing the guards burst into laughter on the other side.

Suddenly, the door wrenched open, and Peter was shoved into the Wolf's arms by an indignant captain. While the others complained, he turned, snarled, "The King will kill us if he finds out about this! Now get!" He kicked at his underlings, who scurried away to a safe distance before turning, mocking.

The captain glanced at the Wolf, who was frantically trying to comfort the sobbing Peter. With a sigh, he stepped in, closed the door behind him, and grumbled, "Well… I wouldn't blame you if you did tell the King…"

The Wolf allowed himself to glare up at him, baring his teeth in a snarl, "You were torturing my son!"

"I wasn't!" protested the captain before pursing his lips as the noise of hoarse, hateful laughter echoed from the hall. Grimacing, he jerked a thumb at the door, "It's the stupids who did that."

"Humph!" With a growl, the Wolf turned, stormed over to the dusty bed that lay in the room, and sat down. As he began to rock Peter in his arms, he glowered back over at the guard and hissed, "What do you want?"

"…I have to feed you… Would you like anything in particular? The King wants you to have the best care." The captain fidgeted nervously, obviously thinking about how angry the King would be if his original wasn't properly taken care of.

The Wolf paused before cradling Peter to his chest and cooing softly, "Peter… are you hungry?"

Without a word, Peter nodded. His little fingers curled up into his father's fur as he shivered in fright.

The Wolf glanced back at the captain, "…What's there to eat?"

Sighing with relief, the captain stepped forward, "Well, there's probably some venison, some pork, though the cooks… If you want fruit, you can have as much of that as you want, 'cause nobody here really eats it…" He let a disgusted grimace creep onto his lips before forcing a sharp smile, "You want fruit? I might be a bit… Well, let's just say that some of the cooks guard their food jealously. You'd be better off with-"

"Fruit's fine." Grunted the Wolf, stroking Peter's ears gently.

The captain nodded, saluted deftly, and, turning, scrambled from the room. The Wolf's ears twitched when he heard the tell-tale click of a bolt locking them into the room.

"Papa?"

Startled by the sudden words, the Wolf glanced down, grinned, and then licked Peter's dry nose, "Yes, Peter?"

Peter felt for his neck, found it, linked his frail arms around it, and whimpered, "I missed you."

"Me too." The Wolf nuzzled him gently.

For a few moments, Peter was silent, drowning the tip of his snout in his papa's fur. Finally, he whispered, "I want to go home…"

The words pierced the Wolf's heart, making him feel so horridly guilty. If he had never given that stupid necklace to Red, he would have never been beaten down by Hansel and sent to that horrid prison. The memory eater would have never even been _made_, and he and his son would be safe in their home, not stuck in some backwards mirror world where everybody wanted to eat everybody else.

With a small gulp, the Wolf muttered hoarsely, "We'll try…"

Peter curled up against him, tail wagging slowly against the Wolf's side, "And we can have cake…? All three of us?"

"Three?"

"Me, you, and Marie… We can have a cake, right?"

The Wolf couldn't help but feel a pang of jealously deep in his gut. His little son had just returned from those nasty spiders' clutches and all he could think was Red?

Without thinking, he snarled, "What's so important about _Marie_?"

Instantly, Peter was curled up, shivering, whimpering, "Don't be mad, Papa… Please… Don't be mad..." His tail curled up to touch the center of his stomach as he flinched.

The Wolf felt a pang of regret rising in his throat. Softly, he cradled his son, almost as if Peter was a newborn, and whispered, "I'm not mad, Peter… I'm sorry… I just wanted to know why you like Red so much…" He bent, nuzzled his son's forehead.

Peter's blind eyes grew wide as he felt his father's breath on his ears. Looking up, he reached forward, found his father's muzzle, and traced it with a finger before happily saying, "Marie's like mommy. I want her to stay till mommy comes back. Then I can have a real mommy and a fake mommy!" He shivered in delight before clapping his hands together. "And Marie can be the one that cooks and mommy can be the one who reads me stories!"

The Wolf's throat grew sore with sadness. Choking back a small sob, he rasped, "That'll… that'll be nice."

"Papa… Are you sad?" Peter's ears perked, and he clutched at his father's fur before attacking his arm with a ferocious hug. "Be happy! Don't be sad! Mommy said that being sad never made anything get better!"

The Wolf glowered at him, somewhat thankful that Peter couldn't see his angry glare. Gently, he reached down, tickled Peter's nose, and forced a painful note of happiness into his voice, "I guess you're right, Peter."

Delighted by the words, Peter puffed up with pride, his tail whipping furiously against the Wolf's side, "I know I am!"

"Now, now, don't be boastful."

"Huh?" Peter paused, a bit confused, and then struggled to sit up, "Papa! Let go!"

"Why? So you can fall off my lap and onto the floor?" joked the Wolf, clutching him happily.

"I want to walk… Can I have my crutches?"

"Oh…" The Wolf's face fell, "I… don't have them, Peter. I'm sorry."

Peter blinked before grabbing his father's hand and asking, "Will you help me walk then? Hold me up? Make sure I don't fall over?"

The Wolf laughed, relieved that Peter had not been angry at him for 'not bringing' the crutches, "Of course, but where did you get such energy? For the last three weeks, you've been in bed, sleeping, because of your broken-" He froze before glancing down at Peter's leg, realizing his broken leg no longer had its cast. Biting his lip, he asked, "… Your broken leg… Is it better?"

Peter nodded vigorously, "The man took off the scratchy thing."

"The… man?"

"He felt like you, but he had a different smell. And he fed me some bread and cheese!" Peter brightened before suddenly growing downcast, "And then a bad man tried to hurt me and the good man saved me. See?" He flopped over on his father's lap, twisted an arm to point at his back, "He hurt me."

A long scratch, rather shallow and unserious, lay across his back. The Wolf smiled at it, relieved that Peter hadn't been hurt _more_, and then cooed, "Ooh… You have your first battle scar, Peter."

"Battle scar?" Peter's eyes perked. "That's not a battle scar! I can't fight!" Crossing his arms, he pouted, "I can't even _walk_."

The Wolf laughed, grabbed his son's arms, and lifted him up off the lap. Lowering him gently so his hind feet touched the floor, he whispered, "Well, you just need some help walking. There's nothing wrong with a little _help_ sometimes."

Peter's legs trembled, close to the point of buckling, before Peter took a tentative, staggering step forward. Squeaking, he clutched at his father's arm, steadying himself. His wide eyes stared down at the disgusting, dust-covered carpet as he tried to envision his feet before he asked suddenly, "Where are we?"

The Wolf bit his lip before catching Peter, sitting him back down on his lap, "Well… Not somewhere _pleasant_."

"Why not?"

"Some stuff happened…" The Wolf said uncomfortably.

Peter sat still for a moment, silent and thoughtful, and then giggled, "But it'll be okay, right? You always make it okay!" He latched his arms around the Wolf's stomach, nuzzled his father's chest happily. "Because you're papa!"

The Wolf chuckled, a glint of hidden sadness in his eyes, "Well… Yes…" He bent down, kissed Peter's flicking ears. "We'll be back home soon."

"With Marie?" asked Peter eagerly.

"…With Marie." The Wolf nodded somberly.

* * *

Red was having a miserable time. The guard who was charged with her had nearly drowned her in a pool of cold water in an attempt to 'wash' her and then had scrubbed her with spices, making her smell like a spice bouquet in the most suffocating way.

Now, as he marched her back towards the throne room, Red could just feel her heart pulse in quiet fury and fear. Why did _everything_ want to eat her? Why couldn't she be something like the Wolf? He never had to deal with the problem of being on the bottom rung of the food chain, did he?

The guard shoved her forward, "Faster."

Red glowered at him before stepping up the pace. The guard nodded, satisfied, before blinking as a harsh call came from behind them. "Stoffers! 'Ey! Wait up!"

The guard turned, glared at the other guard who came trotting up, panting. "What?" he snarled, tense and suspicious.

"You going in ta see the King?"

"Yes."

"Ya could give this ta him, please?" The new guard held out a rolled up piece of parchment, but, before Red's captor could take it, he noticed the girl, blinked, and then licked his lips, "What's this? A snack? Going ta share with the regiment, right?" The tips of his eight legs poked out from behind him.

Red shivered. Another spider guard?

"She's for the King!" Her captor hissed, shoving the new guard away.

"Ah, just for him? He's sick, ain't he? Bet you anything he'll leave half of her lying around and barf what he did eat up!" The new guard leaned to the side, peering past the guard at Red.

"No!" the guard hissed, baring sharp teeth. "He gets her and no one else!"

Righting himself, the hungry guard whimpered, "Not just a bite and a lick? Ain't nothing much!"

"No!"

"C'mon! You can have one too!"

"I said 'no', stupid!"

The hungry guard glared at his comrade before sniffing, "And why is it only you who gets to guard her…?"

"'Cause the King trusts me not to steal bites from his meals, like you guys do!"

"Ah… It's not like he'll miss a lick of blood!"

"But he'll see the bite, and he'll be angry at me!"

"Then somewhere that he can't see, you know? Bottom of her foot, maybe?"

The guard charged to keeping the girl snarled, "Can you not get this into your dumb head? I said 'no', so no!"

"Fine, fine…" grumbled the hungry guard, "And we won't be paid in rations till night, and that's still a good four hours away… And the King gets his meals delivered and scrubbed with spices… Bloody unfair… Now… Hey! Where's the girl?" He shoved past his comrade, eyes furious.

Red had taken the time for the guards to argue to flee, tiptoeing down the hall, turning the corner, and then scrambling madly down the new corridor. She was just turning the second corner when she heard the enraged howl behind her.

She had to hide or be caught, dragged to the King, and eaten.

Turning the corner, she scurried to the first door, let herself in, and then sat down against the door as it closed, trying to quiet her breathing. Within moments, she heard the guards' boots pound past, angry growls wrenching from their throats as they tried to find where she had run to.

"This is your fault!"

Red relaxed as the footsteps hurried away before glancing around her, taking in her surroundings for the first time. A fire crackled in its fireplace, a large pot placed in the midst of the embers to boil whatever was inside. There were several counters, all covered with scraps of food. That was when she first registered the smell, and she choked, trying to cover her nose. It smelled of rot and onions!

Someone began to whistle, and she stiffened, flattened against the wall as a short, stubby man waltzed into view, carrying a large clay bowl. Bending over the fire, oblivious to the girl who watched him, he took a wooden ladle, dipped it into the pot's contents, and drew out a spoonful of orange soup. He sipped it, thought, and nodded before ladling some soup into the bowl, turning, and setting it down upon the counter. He turned away from Red. Grabbing a bag of salt, he took a pinch, sprinkled it over the soup, and then paused before glancing around.

Red pressed up against the counter that blocked his view of her.

The man sniffed, not seeing her, and returned to his soup. Stirring it, he grinned, put the spoon down, took another furtive glance around. The man's smock rustled before a long, barbed tail curled up and out. Grabbing the end of his tail, he stroked the end before placing it over the soup and kneading the bulbous tip. A large round drop of yellow liquid dripped out to splash into the soup.

Red stared, startled. The man was poisoning the soup? Involuntarily, a small gasp broke from her lips.

The scorpion twitched, ejecting a spurt of poison as he jerked in surprise. Snarling, he whirled, tail instantly arching up into a threatening position. He caught sight of Red, snarled, and started for her, "Who're you? What are you doing here?"

Red stood, fled through the door, only to be seen by the angry guards. Snarling, they raced for her. She squeaked, turned, and ran.

Behind, she heard a yowl as the scorpion rushed from the kitchen, only to be bowled over by the guards. Instantly, the sounds of furious struggling came.

"Get off of me!"

"Ow! No stinging, you big bugger!"

"The girl! The girl! Get the bloody girl!"

Red scrambled around the corner, squawked as she slammed into a captain coming to investigate the unusual noise that broke the usual 'peace' of their corridors. Before she could recover, the man grabbed her, wrapped her in his arms, and snarled, "Ah ha! The little brat!" As she yelled and struggled, he stalked back into the hall, where the scorpion and the two guards were untangling themselves.

The guard charged with Red moaned with relief when he saw Red in the other guard's arms, "Oh… Thank you, Wick… She got away."

"I see!" the captain snarled. "And all this commotion? And you!" He spat at the scorpion, who bared sharp teeth back up at him, "What are you doing out here? It's time for the King's dinner! Get on with it!"

A sudden look of frantic worry came over the scorpion's face as he remembered the soup. Paling, he stammered, "It's… it's not-"

"He's hungry, Denver, and he's in a temper! Get! He'll eat pretty much anything right now!"

The guard who was to take care of her blushed, "But-"

"But? But?" hissed the captain, growing red with fury. "I said the King is hungry, so why don't you and your precious little protégé," He threw Red at his subordinate, causing the guard to squeak, scramble to catch her and keep himself upright, "make sure the bloody cook gets that disgusting soup of his to the King! We want him to get better now, _don't_ we?" He grinned maliciously, daring the two trembling guards and the one pale cook to argue. Red had a feeling that the man would have gone on a rampage if one of the three had said something.

The guard holding Red nodded fearfully, and the captain turned, stormed down the hall.

* * *

Immediately after the confrontation with the captain, the hungry guard who had sparked the whole chase scurried away, leaving the original guard, Red, and the scorpion cook, who was protesting as the guard forced him towards the throne room, dragging Red alongside.

"The soup is not ready!" the cook whined, the bowl of soup in his trembling hands, as they approached the door to the throne room.

Grumpily, the guard pushed him forward, "The King won't mind. He already hates it."

"But-"

"Shut up! This girl was going to be his dinner and look at her, not even complaining!" The guard hissed at him, silencing him, and dragged Red forward with him as he reached for the door's handle.

The door slammed open, catching the guard's hand and causing him to yelp loudly. Bristling in the doorway, the King jerked in surprise when he saw the three people just outside the room. Instantly, he took a step back before snarling at the guard, "I told you not to show her to Denver!"

The cook said weakly, "Captain Wick told me to-"

"Uh!" The King had caught sight of the soup. Backing away, he growled, "Take that away! I hate that horrid concoction!"

The cook looked about ready to comply, but a look of hesitation came across his face. Biting his lip, he whispered hoarsely, "But… Your Majesty… You are in need of getting better." He held out the soup with trembling hands, but there was a malicious, hungry sparkle in his eye.

The King glowered at him before turning, snorting, "Fine! I'll eat that disgusting soup of yours, but, if I don't feel better by tomorrow, I'm still eating her!" He pointed furiously at Red before reaching out, grabbing her, and hugging her to his chest, burying his nose into her hair. He moaned softly, "And she smells so delicious… Ah… Rosemary and mothswood…" His muscles relaxed slowly before he released her, began hacking loudly, covering his coughs with a hand.

Red could have sworn she saw the cook smile.

Stepping forward, the guard gently took one of the King's arm, led him to his throne, and sat him down. Glumly, the King nodded his thanks before waving a hand, "The soup and the girl, please."The cook stepped forward, hissing at Red to move forward too. Gulping, Red sullenly followed him, knowing that they would kill her if she tried to run again.

"Come here, girl." Cooed the King, tapping his lap. "You can share my soup with me, lessen the pain. I've lost most of my appetite with just the smell."

Red hesitated. Sit on his lap? If it had been the Wolf asking, she might have even _considered_ it, but not if the one asking was a spider dressed in wolf's skin. And eat the soup? She had seen the scorpion poison it! She wasn't going to eat it!

"Girl…" The King twitched, eyes narrowing, "I said 'come here'."

Red sullenly went closer, let him pull her onto his lap. Stroking her hair, the King ushered the cook over, who set the bowl onto the broad arm of the throne, dug a spoon out of his pocket, and bowed back.

The King grabbed the spoon, regarded it with a small smirk, and then dipped it into the orange mess. Pulling it, he surveyed the contents of the spoon before asking, "Is this_ carrot_?" A drip of disgust twisted his voice.

"Yes, sir." The cook said meekly, with just a touch of eagerness in his voice.

"Fie! I told you never to feed me this! I'm fine with the onion stuff, but not the bloody carrots!" The King turned the spoon over. As he watched the carrot soup spill out, he groaned, shook off the remainder from the spoon, and then scooped up some more, "Well… Girl, hungry for some carrots?" He carefully put the spoon to her lips, a quizzical look on his face.

Red refused to open her mouth.

"Come on now… Will you please _eat_? Otherwise, you'll be just a bit thinner tomorrow and I want as much as I can get… Please eat."

Red flinched as he brushed his nose through her hair, his breath warming her scalp. Shivering, she leaned away from the spoon, "Uh… No, thank you… I'm not hungry…"

The King moaned, "Please…?"

"No."

Turning from pleading to threatening, the King hissed, "If you don't, I'll force it down your throat."

Red crossed her arms, glowered up at him, finally snarled, "I don't want to eat poison."

The cook jerked, eyes growing wide, tensing. A pale sheet of terror crossed his face. He hadn't expected her to say anything.

The King seemed equally shocked, stiffening with a stupefied expression on his face before suddenly relaxing. Casting the spoon away, he twisted under her so he could look into her face easily, "Well… You like telling stories. I'm in the mood. Tell me about this _poison_."

The cook started to back away, but the King waved a hand and the guard had him instantly pinioned.

Red pursed her lips before muttering, "I… ran away from the guard… and I was hiding in the kitchen… And I saw him put poison in the soup."

The King smiled as he snuggled down into a more comfortable position, "Now, now… We can't have stories ruining lives… Where did he get the poison?"

"His tail. He's a scorpion. And the poison was yellow. And then he saw me and was chasing me."

"Mm… Details, details, details…" The King tapped his chin before sitting up, pushing Red from his lap, standing, grabbing the soup, and walking over to the restrained cook. As the man stared up at him with bugging, scared eyes, the King leaned forward, whispered, "Is this true, Denver? This little story? Or is it just a story of a child who doesn't want carrot soup for supper?"

The cook shook his head furiously, "No! I would never do that, sire!"

"Well… I can't feed it to you to find out," The King regarded the cook with a bright, calculating eye, "'cause you're resistant to your own poison… Aha! I have it!"

Putting a finger up, he beamed at the cook, who smiled weakly and asked, "What, sire? An idea?"

"Yes! A positively brilliant idea!" The King grinned before raising the soup bowl, pouring the warm carrot soup over the scorpion's head, and ordered coldly, "Guard, take this _thing_ to your ration group and eat him. You get _double_ rations if you do."

The cook shrieked as the guard giggled gleefully, "Yes, sir!" Without waiting, he turned, dragged his prisoner to the door, and let himself out, his eight arms easily keeping the scorpion under control.

The King gazed smugly after them before scratching his belly, glancing lazily over at Red, who was staring in horror, "Now, now… Now we have to talk about you…" His gait rather lively and happy, he waltzed to his throne, sat down, and motioned to her.

Red glanced at the door, hesitating, and then squeaked when one of the long spider legs reached out from behind the King's back, wrapped around her wrist.

"I said 'we have to talk'. Come here, little one. No looking at the door." He dragged her over, flipped a stray strand of hair from her face, and peered into her eyes before licking his lips, coughing hoarsely, "You look wonderful."

She knew he was just commenting on how delicious she looked to him. Grimacing, she pushed away one of the spider legs, grumbled, "That's great. Now let me go. You can't eat me."

The fur around his collar raised in surprise, "Mm? I cannot? I wasn't planning to yet… Perhaps next week, but I think you deserve a little extra time, since you did just stop me from eating poison." He smiled pointedly, leaned forward, and gazed into her eyes curiously. "And don't you like that much better than me killing and eating you _right_ now?"

Red stared at him before nodding slowly.

"Good!" He stood, clapped his hands, and then seized her.

Red squeaked, struggled, "Hey!"

Laughing gaily, he reached upwards with his long spider legs, caught the edge of an overhead spider web, and pulled himself up easily. The tips of all eight legs placed on the thick string of the spider web, he hurriedly quickly along the length before stopping at the wall, digging his forelegs into the tips, and then starting to ascend.

Red shrieked, clutched at him. They were a good twenty feet up from the floor now! "Why are we up here?"

The King chuckled, jumped from the wall to another nearby spider web, scurried along its length, gaining another twenty or so feet, and, then catching a ledge with his legs, swinging himself and Red up into the dark opening of a hole. He set her down, whispered, "Wait here. I'll be right back." Turning, he leapt back down onto the spider web, used it to pick his way to another, and used them as sort as a web ladder to find his way to the very top of the chamber, where he disappeared into a small tunnel.

Red stared, glanced down, shivered at the sight of the floor such a long ways below, and then thought about lowering herself onto the spider webs; if it could hold the King, it could definitely hold her right?

She heard scrambling on the rock above her, glanced up to see the King crawling upside down towards her. Noticing her stare, he paused, chuckled, "Just had to put away my pets. Nothing much."

"Pets…?"

"I'll show them to you, if you want…" He reached down, hauled her up, and then turned back around to start back up the wall. Within a minute, he had reached the small tunnel. Setting her down on the slight ledge before it, he pushed her forward gently, "It's soft, not sticky… Don't worry… Go on…"

Red stared at the tunnel before her. It was rather small, only four feet tall or so, and spider silk was plastered everywhere in thick layers, creating a carpet and padding on the wall of some sorts.

Biting her lip, she bent, stepped in, and then dropped to her knees so she could crawl. She heard a small sigh of pleasure from the King as he entered behind her, his eight legs scrunching up under his cloak for easier passage.

Red hurried, went around a sharp corner, and tumbled into a small room as her hand missed the ledge. Instantly, the King stood over her, beaming, "You'd never make a good spider, you know… So, how do you like it?"

The room was absolutely covered in spider webs. However, instead of the random, silky patterns that blew into faces and caught on clothing, this silk had been carefully layered onto the walls and floor, creating a soft surface on everything.

The King grinned wildly before running to a little hole in the wall, squeezing through, and wheezing, "Thirsty?"

Red picked at the floor besides her before muttering, "Yes."

Seconds later, the King scrambled back through the small hole, holding a dusty bottle of champagne. Coming over to her, he twisted the cork out deftly, watched the liquor foam, and then offered the whole bottle to her.

Red snorted, crossed her arms, "I can't drink alcohol! I'm not old enough!"

"Mm?" The King eyed her curiously before putting the bottle to his lips, downing half of the bottle, and then throwing it behind him without a care. It bounced off the wall, spilling its contents everywhere.

Sitting, the King grinned widely, "You never answered my question."

"Huh?"

"How do you like it?"

"…It's… _soft_." Admitted Red, patting the floor. The threads of the web felt like silk.

The King smiled happily, eyes slitting, "I weaved it all myself… Of course it's soft…" He turned, used his legs to push him back in, went over to a small basket in the corner, and lifted the lid. "And my little pets help me sometimes…" He put a hand in, withdrew a furry tarantula.

Red bit her lip, scooted backwards. Spiders! The small kind! She hated spiders! The King wasn't so bad because he was partially in disguise; the only thing that showed what he was were the eight legs that seemed so helpful.

The King obviously had the opposite feeling. Kissing his little pet on a leg, he turned, set it onto the ground, and then crouched to watch it with happy eyes before noticing Red's tenseness and asking, "You don't like him?"

"…I don't like… little spiders…" Red would have just said 'spiders', but the King might have taken it the wrong way.

"Not big ones?" The King's ears perked, his eyes narrowing.

"No, not big ones."

"… I can deal with that." The King picked up his pet, put it back into the basket, and murmured, "Yes, yes, dears… The rest of you can come out later… Just not right now…" He set the lid atop the basket before turning, smiling, "So… Are you hungry? Thirsty? Bored? I haven't had anybody up here for the longest time, and I feel that it's suddenly my duty to be a proper host." He bowed mockingly.

Red glowered at him witheringly, "I want to see the Wolf and Peter."

The King nodded, "It can be done. So you're not hungry? You're not going to eat at all?" His face fell as he asked this.

"Not if you just want me to eat because I can get fatter or whatever you want to happen to me." Snarled Red, crossing her arms.

The King suddenly turned wrathful. Face contorting into a vicious scowl, eyes narrowed, he hissed, "I want there to be something to _eat_, at least! You're the scrawniest, little thing I've seen! How much do you weigh? Fifty pounds? A hundred? _Nothing_!" He came closer, bristling, eyes sparkling with hungry anger, "I want a good meal, not a snack! I've been sick, living off bloody soup, and how much of it was poisoned? Probably all of it! I haven't eaten a good meal in three months! Nothing! Not even a rabbit! Do you know what hunger does? It hurts! Have you ever hungered, you in your precious, little world, where food comes in bags and is delivered right to you?" He broke off to cough before saying weakly, "And all the while… we are in here, starving. There're no bags of food, like there used to be. There's hunting or starving, killing or being killed. Good champagne is a treat, not that disgusting brew I offered. Sugar? Hasn't been farmed for years now… Good bread? It's all unleavened and hard and flat now, 'cause we got no bloody yeast!" He stayed quiet for a moment, catching a breath, and then latched a furious eye on a stupefied Red, "And you… You're one of those people who cook a whole meal and eat only a few bites before throwing the rest away. I know you are. At least my original enjoys his meals and doesn't _waste_. And his son? Barely eats anything, because he has a bloody _reason_! He's sick, you're not, and he eats more than you still!" He bared his teeth, snarled at her in a feral manner. The fang-tipped mandibles poked out, clicking angrily, and his legs brushed out from beneath his purple cloak, twitching in rage.

Red stared at him, shivering, "…Is it really… Is it really that bad here?"

Suddenly, the King was sitting on the floor, sullen and miserable. His legs curling around him, making a small cage, he whispered, "My guards follow because I can deliver rations, my people eat each other, and rebellion is a common word… I think it's bad. I just need to survive, try to pick things back together… Laws must be made, rules enforced, the riff-raff dealt with accordingly. Rations have to be made so I can start giving them out to the common folk, hopefully stopping the 'killing and eating each other'… I just want to make my world better…" He picked at the floor, his claws tearing up little strands of webbing, "But nobody wants me to do it. They think I'm a miserable tyrant who pokes into the natural order of things. Yes, I know that predators are supposed to hunt, and prey supposed to run, but couldn't we keep that to a minimum? Predators could go a week without meat, couldn't they?"

Red saw a weakness, stated, "Then you shouldn't eat me."

Anger flaring once more, the King hissed, "I haven't eaten meat in three months! I think that gives me right to three months _with_ meat!"

Red cringed, "And that sort of defeats your purpose, doesn't it?"

The King snarled at her, scrambled up, and, hurrying to the small hole in the wall, squeezed through. His fur disguise was all ruffled, the hair prickling as they rose in angry indignation, and his breath came with difficulty, his lungs frozen with rage. What a naïve girl! She couldn't see past her nose! Of course it defeated the purpose! It's what stung him most about his plan! Always faults, never perfect! Always, always, always!

Red waited for a few moments, hearing the enraged hisses and snarls from through the hole, before standing, creeping over, and peering in. It was like the room she stood in, covered with silk webs, but this room was more cramped, only nine feet by four feet. The King lay on the torn cloth, balled-up webbing, and small pillows that littered the floor, half of him hidden under the soft debris.

Glaring at her, he snapped, "Go away! Leave me to my peace!"

Curious, Red poked her head in, glanced to the sides to see small golden trinkets and necklaces hanging from the walls, "Is this where you sleep?"

"Yes, it's my room! Now go away!" The King turned away, buried himself in the cloth, and then settled, completely covered. The only thing that showed was two of the spider legs, which were poised to strike should Red venture closer.

Red bit her lip, drew back just for comfort's sake, and asked quietly, "…But what about visiting the Wolf and Peter?"

Slowly, the King's two spider legs lowered, relaxing. The cloth rags shifting, his poked his head up, eyes suspicious, "Why do you want to talk to them? Plotting? Planning an escape?"

"No! I just want to see how Peter is doing!"

"He's doing fine, so shut up, find something to do, and stop bothering me, or I might forget that I promised I wouldn't eat you till _next_ week."

Red glowered at him, "And _what_ would I do up here?"

"Ah, I don't know." Grunted the King sarcastically, "Why don't you go throw yourself out of my home and kill yourself in the process? Save me the trouble." He ducked back under the cloth once more.

Huffing, Red turned, stormed to the corner, and sat down to fume.

* * *

The captain had brought some fruit and flat, hard bread for the Wolf and Peter. The Wolf was disgusted when he saw the purple spots on the apples and the felt the mushiness of the oranges, but thanked the hesitant, rather nice captain, waited till the man left, and then turned to feed Peter.

Peter, tail thumping against the covers, sat chewing a half of an apple, ears perked with delight, "Thank you, papa!"

The Wolf was using his claws to carve off the rotting parts of the oranges and apples. Glancing over, he smiled softly, cooed lovingly, "You're welcome, Peter. I'm just happy that you're not asking for cake or anything." He turned his head down to glance at the mushy part of the apples and oranges in his hands and sighed. He had kept all the disgusting parts for himself, given all the good parts to Peter.

Peter paused, blinking, and then dropped the apple piece to reach forward, find his father's hand, and found the rotten parts of the fruit. "What are you eating?"

"Fruit, just like you."

"… But they're mushy!" Peter grimaced, drew back, felt for the apple half he had dropped, found it, and then held it up, "You want mine? This one's good."

"No, you can have it." The Wolf smiled, patted Peter on the head.

"But why?" whined Peter. "You have to eat too!"

"Well, I had something to eat last night. When was the last time you ate?"

Peter's ears fell, "Last afternoon, I think…"

"See? You're probably hungrier than I am, so you get the good parts."

"But…" Peter sniffled, "What about I get half good, half bad, and you get half good, half bad too? Then it is fair…"

"No, Peter, it's okay. They're not that bad." The Wolf picked up a droopy orange half, sniffed at it, balked, and then dropped it over the side of the bed, deciding not to eat that piece.

"Then you can have the bread." Said Peter, feeling around for the bread and holding it up when he found it.

"I'm not that hungry. Go ahead and have it, Peter. You need to eat, you know," The Wolf smiled, bent, and whispered, "so you get some muscle on those bones and be strong like papa!"

Peter giggled, felt for his father, and then latched onto him, hugging him happily, "I'm strong! See?" He squeeze at his father's stomach.

The Wolf barely felt it, but grinned, "Ooh… You're very strong, Peter!" He nipped at Peter's ears, laughed when the little wolf squeaked, rolled back.

"I am! I am!" Peter cheered before using his arms to prop himself up, tail wagging wildly behind him, "And I'm going to get better so I can walk! Then I'd be able to walk without crutches!" Plumed tail in the air, frail legs quivering as he tried to straighten them so he could stand up on the bed, he grew quiet, biting his lip.

The Wolf immediately dropped the rotten parts of the fruits, took Peter's thin arms in his hands, and gently helped him stand upright. Quivering, Peter moved his legs back and forth, the scanty fur covering them on end, and then whispered, "No… I want to walk by myself… Let go…"

Pursing his lips, the Wolf muttered, "Peter…"

"Papa, please? Maybe I can stand up… Please?" Peter's voice was filled with hope.

Slowly, the Wolf let his hands drift away from his son's arms, and, immediately, Peter crumpled back down onto the bed cover. Surprised, Peter pulled his legs out from underneath him, felt at them, and then began to sniffle, "I don't like my legs, papa…"

Sensing a restrained sob in his son's voice, the Wolf hurriedly caught him up in his arms, cradled him, "Oh, it's okay, Peter… It's okay…"

Tears glittering in his eyes, Peter clutched at the fur, whimpered, "Papa… I want to walk without my crutches… I want to walk…" He curled up, trembled, trying to hide his tears away from the outside world.

The Wolf smiled sadly, pulled Peter up so the little wolf couldn't cover his face, and wiped a tear away with a gentle claw, "Peter… It's okay… You know, you're much better off than some people. There's some people who can't even move their legs. You can. There's some people who can't move their arms. You can. You should be happy!"

"But there's people who can move everything!" Peter cried, the sobs racking his little, thin body. "Like Marie… She can move _everything_! Why can't I?" He sniffled into his father's fur.

Lost for words, the Wolf just said, "…But I still love you."

Peter stilled before wiping at the tears, nodding, "Thank you, Papa… I love you too…" He sat still for a moment before sitting up, holding up his fingers, and counting off, "And I love Marie, and… and the angels and –oh!- I love Bunny and-"

The Wolf laughed, "Bunny? That little toy? You can't love a toy!"

Reproachfully, Peter grumbled, "But I still love it…"

* * *

Irit was angry, fuming as hunger, anger, and impatience tugged at his mind, each demanding equal attention. He had let the snake take the two originals to the King, his cousin, and he could just shudder with envy as he imagined his bigger, stronger cousin devouring the small original. Not that he wanted to eat the original, for that would kill the lady that he was trying to woo, but still… so small, defenseless…

Irit kicked at a stone, itched at his head, and then bit his lip when he saw a rabbit chewing at a mouse ahead. Licking his lips, seeing an opportunity to satisfy one of the things bothering him, he lay down, grew still. Rabbits liked scavenging; they wouldn't hesitate to come closer if they thought a still body a possible meal. Besides, it was almost night, and it was hard to hunt in the dark.

The rabbit finished devouring its mouse, cleaned some blood from its nose, and then prowled along, its little length of yarn trailing behind it. For a few moments, Irit thought it wouldn't see him, but he let an inner sigh of relief sound as the rabbit gave an excited squeak, hurried over, and sniffed at him.

Instantly, Irit twisted around, his tail flaring out from beneath his coat to strike the rabbit in the neck. The rabbit jerked before stilling, eyes glazing over as it died.

Chuckling grimly, Irit stood, stowed his tail, and started off. He'd find his way back home, start a warm fire, and eat before falling asleep. What a wonderful, comfortable plan, not to mention warm. The air was growing cold now. A warm fire would be nice…

A small sound interrupted his thought process. Freezing, he cocked his head, listening for it again, curious.

It came again, and Irit blinked. A sneeze? For a moment, he weighed the options in his mind before deciding such a sound was worth investigating. Turning, he started off into the trees to his right. The snow crunched underfoot, and Irit started to hear the small sneezes clearly.

In his mind, he was already imagining the scene: a small creature, a welcome addition to his meal, standing around, sneezing so loudly in a dangerous place. He would creep up behind it, kill it, take it home, eat it for dessert. Again, a wonderful plan.

Irit jerked as his foot skidded on an icy patch of mud. Scrambling to keep his balance, he leapt back, barely managing to stop himself from falling into the hole that bared its gaping jaws at the sky. Another sneeze came from within, and Irit, forever tempted with the thought of a second course, knelt, leaned forward to peer curiously into the hole.

Instantly, he grinned, "Well, _hello_ there! You're a memory eater, aren't you?"

The memory eater glanced up in surprise. Sitting in knee-high water, soaked to the bone, and cold, he had not been expecting anyone to pop up and grant him a 'hello'. With a whimper, he whined, "Take out?"

Irit drew back, rounded the hole, and found an edge lacking ice. Kneeling again, he gazed in, asked, "Well… I can _try_… How did you get in there?"

Miserably, the memory eater muttered, "Wake up and see mirror man putting girl memory and original through mirror and I try to stop. And he had no time for concentrate and sent me to middle of forest. I walk, slip, fall."

"Mm… This is… a day and a half ago? You've been in here the whole time?"

The memory eater nodded before calling, "Eat?"

Instantly, Irit's happiness fled. His new-found treasure was asking for his dinner? Slowly, he let his eyes fall the rabbit at his side, sighed, and pushed it in. Memory eaters never came into mirrors… But now he had one trapped in a hole! A rare find! Besides, memory eaters tasted horrible, as far as the rumors went about them.

The memory eater splashed up, caught it, and tore into it ravenously, his tail wagging furiously behind him. Within seconds, all that remained were bits and scraps which had fallen into the water, and the memory eater was eagerly licking the blood from his paws, gazing up at the morose Irit eagerly. "More?"

"No, there's no more." Grumbled Irit, eyeing a particular bloody scrap in the water. "But, once I get you out, we can hunt till nighttime, how about that?"

The memory eater nodded vigorously, licking his lips.

"Have you tried jumping out?"

The trapped animal nodded once more.

"Show me how high you can jump."

Blinking, the memory eater back away before sloshing, bending, and leaping upwards. He only made it halfway up the wall before he struck it, dug his claws in vainly, and slid down with mud plopping down around him.

"Pitiful." Irit stood, turned, and glanced around for a good branch. Seeing one, he started for it.

Panicking as his rescuer disappeared from the lip of the hole, the memory eater shrieked, "No! No! Come back! No! Don't leave!" He pushed against the wall, clawing it frantically as it yelped and sobbed.

Irit was shocked by the _loudness_ of the creature. How had it managed not to be found out this past day and a half? Shuddering, Irit pushed the thought away, grabbed up the branch, and stomped back to the hole.

The instant he appeared, the memory eater sat down, shivering in relief as he licked his torn-up paws. With the frantic clawing, he had ripped open day-old wounds, and black blood now dripped from the fingers into the muddy water.

Rolling his eyes, Irit held the branch down, thankful it reached just a bit past the halfway mark the memory eater could jump to. "Here you go. Jump, hold on, and I'll pull you out." He braced himself.

The memory eater gazed at the branch with inquisitive eyes before standing, leaping for it. His fingers caught the end of a thick branch.

Irit jerked forward, not expecting the weight, but caught himself in time. Arms straining, he struggled backwards, pulling the branch up.

The moment he was close enough to the top of the hole, the memory eater scrambled up and off the branch, joyfully buried his nose in the snow. Irit watched him with mixed feeling; for one thing, he was sorry for the creature, but the thing had eaten his dinner! Oh well…

Reaching forward, Irit tapped the memory eater's head, asked, "Are you okay?"

The memory eater hid his bleeding paws in the snow, nodded hastily, "Yes. Eat now? Please? I am lots hungry."

Irit grinned, "So am I."

"…So… Eat?" Turning to the branch, the memory eater peeled off a small stick, nibbled happily at it, and then offered it to Irit. "Wood is yummy."

Irit glared at the stick before grunting, "I was thinking more of hunting…"

* * *

Red had torn up a whole bundle of web, playing with the silk threads before ripping them apart or tying them together, making small string dolls and necklaces with it, before the King finally overcame his somberness and poked his head from his room.

When he saw what she had been doing, he groaned, dragged himself through the hole, and stomped over, "Destructive, little thing, aren't you?" Shoving her out of the way, he bent, made a small gagging noise, and vomited some thread back onto the torn-away spot before spreading it around with a hand.

Red glowered at him, "I'm _bored_."

The King licked his lips before nodding, "And I'm hungry. Let's go raid the kitchen."

"…Raid the kitchen?"

"Sure…" The King clapped his hands before snorting a cough, wincing, and muttering, "Because you need to eat and the kitchen is right by my store of food."

"Your store of food?" Red had no idea what he was talking about.

"Yes, my store of food." Said the King in an annoyed tone, snapping his jaws at her. "It's for me and no one else! And you can't have any."

* * *

The King took Red to the kitchen, stole some hard, blackish bread and sour cheese for Red, and then dragged her to his 'store of food'.

It consisted of a large room, smelling of sulfur, misty and hot. Like the King's personal rooms, it was entirely _covered_ with silk; however, instead of a flat, smooth ceiling, there were several big bumps that caused the threads to show the rock around it.

The instant Red stepped in, she stopped, coughed, "Ew! It's hot and icky in here!"

"Below are the baths," The King explained, grinning as he walked into the middle of the room, eyes glittering in pride, "So the steam comes up and heats this room. Makes it a lovely place if you ever get cold…" He reached up, gently pulled one of the 'bumps' from the ceiling, and brought it to the floor. Red saw that it was a long, lumpy oval.

"What's that?"

"My food…" The King stroked the webbing covering the oval softly before shaking it. The faint sound of sloshing came from inside, and the King grinned widely, "I save these for rainy days usually, or times when I'm starving, but I think I deserve one…"

"What is that?" asked Red, nibbling at her cheese before her nose wrinkled. The smell of cheese and sulfur did _not_ go together. She turned to the bread, bit at that.

"One of the guards who disobeyed me several months ago."

Red choked on her mouthful of bread, struggled with it for a few moments, and then spat out the small, soggy lump onto the webbed floor. Staring at the King, pained tears in her eyes, she asked hoarsely, "There's a person in there?"

"What remains of him." The King shook the cocoon, shuddered with pleasure when he heard the liquid noise.

Red gagged, feeling suddenly sick. However, no bile would rise from her stomach and the action turned to a dry heave.

The King didn't notice. Happily turning the cocoon over, he poked a hole, put his mouth to it, and, tilting the oval upwards, began to groan with happiness as disgusting, rotting sewage flowed into his mouth. A few drops of reddish-white escaped at the corners of his mouth, trickling down his cheeks.

Bile finally came, and Red vomited against the wall as the smell of decomposing flesh hit her.

For the next few minutes, the King continued to have his feel of the rotten contents of the cocoon, oblivious to everything, before finally lowering it, surveying the cocoon itself, and smiling. Turning, he saw Red, pale as snow, trembling against the wall.

Blinking, he asked, "What's wrong?"

Red managed to squeak, "You just… you just… That's disgusting!"

The King patted his stomach, "No, it's not… It's wonderful… Delicious…" He licked the drops of rot from his lips. "Much better than soup or fruit."

"So… so… each of those," Red pointed a finger at the bumps on the ceiling, face twisted in a restrained grimace, "is a dead person?"

"Correct… And I'm sure there's one that's been sitting there a good year and a half… I'm forgetting which… But it's not this one, you know why?" He motioned at the cocoon he had eaten from.

"…Why?" asked Red hesitantly, voice trembling.

The King picked up the cocoon, shook it. The sound of rattling solids now came. "See? There's bones."

Red couldn't take it. Bending over, she vomited a second time.

* * *

Irit was elated about his new 'pet', who managed to catch a locust, a small bird, and a decent-sized rabbit. Now, as he headed home, the memory eater slinking behind him, he hummed happily, "Good day in hunting. Three things? That's more than I can catch in day if it's good, and we got it all in an hour. Maybe there's something to that rumor that you guys can 'feel' if there's mirror things close… Right before dark too! We're lucky! Going home, getting ready to eat and sleep and be next to a warm fire all night…" He glanced up at the dark sky, smiled at the stars that blinked down on him, and asked, "So… You're happy?"

The memory eater was dwelling on the image of his girl memory, inwardly pining for her. His paws hurt and he wanted caresses and easing love to take away the pain. However, at Irit's question, he nodded solemnly, grunted, "Thank to you for helping out of hole."

"Of course!" Irit turned, smiled at him, "But you didn't answer my question."

The memory eater stopped, sat in the snow, and whimpered, "Want girl memory…"

"Who?" Pausing, Irit glanced at the memory eater, a bit confused.

The memory eater scrambled for names, "The girl memory! Uh… Gre…Gretel… and… and… Red! Girl memory, Gretel, and Red her names! Nicknames!" He smiled hopefully at Irit, hoping he would know who he was talking of.

Irit's face darkened, "Oh… Yes, I know her…" Turning, he started off again.

The next moment, he felt a tug on his pant leg. Turning, he stared down the memory eater, who gazed imploringly up at him. "Please? Tell me where…"

Irit sighed, bent, and petted the memory eater's head, "Well, I'm sorry to say that she's currently either in captivity or dead."

The memory eater's eyes widened before he shook his head, backed away from Irit, trembling, "Lying bad. Lying really bad if hurt heart of other."

Hurriedly, Irit reassured him, "Look, I don't know whether she's alive or dead. She's probably alive, okay? Don't panic."

"Where? Where girl memory?" The memory eater pleaded, fur raising on end.

Annoyed, Irit hissed sternly, "Calm down first and I'll tell you."

Instantly, the memory lay down in the snow, taking small breaths, eyes tearing up, "Want girl memory… Will calm…" For a few minutes, he remained still except for the occasional tremor before asking softly, "Where girl memory?"

"In the castle."

"Where castle?"

"You're not going to the castle."

"Why not?" wailed the memory eater. "Have to find girl memory!"

Irit glowered at him before asking angrily, "And die in the process?"

"Die?" The light of fear sparked into the memory eater's eyes, "Die? But… Girl memory die if I not go!"

"And what do you care?"

The memory eater stopped, processing the sentence for a few long seconds before mulling over what answer he should give. Finally, he said slowly, "Girl memory my friend."

"Friends die all the time. It's nothing. Get on with li-"

"Girl memory my _friend_." Snarled the memory eater. "Girl memory my _only_ friend. Without girl memory, I bleed, pain hurting, and die. Girl memory my…" He searched for a word.

Grimly, Irit suggested, "Center? Obsession? Bloody death-sentence?"

Glaring at the scorpion, the memory eater growled, "_heart_."

"So you like her?"

"Yes."

"Do you love her?"

"Love?" The memory eater blinked before asking in confusion, "Love and like not same?"

"Of course not!"

"… Wait…" The memory eater put his hands to his head, searched for a faint definition of 'love' in his brain. What was love? It was related to 'liking', yes, but what else? He bit his lip, concentrated.

Irit sighed, seeing it would take a long time, and nudged him, grumbling, "Let's just go back to my home and eat and I'll think about taking you there, okay?"

The memory eater nodded morosely, "But… I want girl memory…"


	54. A Bargain

That night, the Wolf and Peter slept in their small, rather comfy cell, the Wolf sprawled over the queen-sized mattress while Peter curled up in the crook of his father's arm, whimpering throughout a nightmare and frail legs twitching.

The memory eater had to suffer spending the night with Irit, whose cave of a home was cold and drafty except for the immediate area around the small fire he had set up. So, nestling himself down into a bed of leaves, he tried to keep out Irit's choking snores and attempted to visualize his precious girl memory.

As for Red, the King took her back to his personal rooms and gave her two options.

"Either you can sleep where I sleep or I can wrap you up and untie you in the morning."

After seeing his little room of wrapped up, decomposing bodies, Red hurriedly took the first option.

Now, the King lay curled up under the cloth scraps, his legs twitching against Red's arm. She was laying atop the cloth, glaring sullenly at the ceiling. What a horrible day… She was hungry, feeling sick to her stomach, and thirsty…

Flinching as two of the King's spider legs curled around her arm, Red sat up, glared at them, and tried to dislodge them.

Under the cloth, the King moaned, twisted, and began to drag her down, "No…"

Red squeaked, stayed still, and the King fell back into his gentle sleep. Sighing, she poked at one of the legs.

The hair on it rose before it released her, disappeared under the rags with a rustle.

With a smile, Red poked at the other, hoping that one would loosen its hold. It gently slid off, but rested on her lap instead of vanishing under the scraps of cloth. Red glowered at it, tapped it again.

Under the cloth, the King snorted loudly before blinking awake. Feeling the finger drumming at the tip of his leg, he groaned, sat up.

Red squeaked when the King rose up out the dark recesses of the heap of cloth. Eyes narrowed and weary, he asked testily, "Will you stop it?" His fur was matted, twisted into knots, and pieces of string and web hung from it.

Red stared at him before sniffing, "I can't go to sleep if your legs don't stop bothering me."

The King glowered at her, ears laid back onto his skull, and then bared sharp teeth, "It's my room, so I do what I want." He vanished under the cloth once more, grumbling under his breath.

Red stuck her tongue out after him, turned, and then settled down on the soft surface. However, she felt something brush against her shoulder, groaned, "Will you please stop touching me…?"

The King's hurt voice came from underneath the rags, "I don't usually sleep with someone else in the room… I guess I'm just not used to it…"

Red huffed, rolled over, and sighed with relief when the leg withdrew.

Under the cloth scraps, the King listened attentively, hearing his captive's breath slow to a calm, sleepy rhythm. The noise was lulling, and he struggled to stay awake for a several minutes before sitting up, glaring at the girl.

She was asleep, and he grumbled sourly before creeping over, peering into her face. It was calm, a small smile stretched across the pale lips.

The King sighed, smiled gently, and dove back into the warmth of the cloth pile. For some reason, that smile caused him to feel deep satisfaction and happiness. Was it because everybody in this world had predatory smiles, the type of smile that told you that they would rather be eating you than talking? The girl's smile was so… _natural_…

He closed his eyes, curled up, and fell straight to sleep.

* * *

Morning came quickly, and it found Red jerking awake as a guard's loud voice shouted, "Sire! The Lieutenant is back! Sire?"

Red yawned, stretched, and glanced down at the cloth under her. Eyes narrowing, she patted it, "Hello? Your guard is-"

"Calling for me, yes…" sniffled the King, voice hoarse, "But I've seemed to have taken off my disguise during my sleep… I have to find it…" The cloth rustled as he moved underneath.

"Huh?"

"It fell off… It's a headpiece, covered with small mirrors… Do you see it? I have horrible eyesight… Only thing good about wearing the disguise is that I can actually see…" A black-brown spider leg poked up, felt around the top of the rags. The grayish claws at the end curled with agitation.

"Sire!"

"Good Lord! Girl, can you go tell them to _wait_? That way I can come out and you won't see me."

Red nodded, climbed through the hole, and stumbled a few steps forward before calling, "Wait!"

"Huh?" The guard's head popped around the corner of the entrance tunnel, eyes wide, "A- Oh, he didn't eat you?"

Red recognized him as the guard who had been in charge of her yesterday. Puckering, she grumbled, "No."

"Oh… Okay… We can wait." The guard took one last curious glance at her before he turned, vanished around the corner.

Red turned with a scowl and stopped when she saw the rags and balls of webbing being stuffed through the hole, rolling and fluttering to the floor. Eyes widening, she came closer, "What are you doing?"

"Too much bedding and you can't look!" A spider leg forced itself into the hole, blocking passage and view. Inside, the King was using the rest of his seven legs to push away the bedding as he searched for his disguise. The cramped quarters he so loved to make his bed in were now making it hard to move his legs freely.

The next moment, he clicked his fanged mandibles in agitation as Red grabbed the tip of his leg, tugged at it, "I want to see!"

"You cannot!" He seethed angrily, struggling to reclaim his leg. "It is a law! And if you pull off my leg, I will have your guts for dinner!" He yanked at it angrily.

Red released it, and the King staggered forward, not expecting the sudden lack of pulling on his leg. Quickly, Red poked her head in.

Stumbling around, all eight legs rigid with fury, the King hissed at her, his black-brown coarse hair on end as seven angry black eyes latched onto her. Instantly, his forelegs raised in a threatening motion, poised, and he raised himself to reveal his dark, ugly fangs to her.

Red stared before hesitantly slipping in through the hole. There wasn't much room left, for the gigantic spider took up much of the space, especially when he was bloated with rage.

She took a slow step forward, and the King took a reflexive step back, clicking his fangs angrily as he growled, "You're not supposed to see me like this! Get out!" His legs quivered as his black eyes glittered with wrath.

He did not move as she took a few steps forward, staring up at him. What kind of spider was he? He wasn't like the normal house spiders, for sure, because they did not have that coarse, thick fur covering them. He also looked much flatter and wider than the usual types of spiders she saw. Almost like a stuffed, furry spider...

The King snarled again, "Away, foul girl! Out of my room! Out!" One of his poised legs inched forward, shoved her back.

Red pushed it away, still confused, and asked, "What kind of spider are you?"

Slowly losing his anger, it turning to sad disappointment, the King mumbled in his hoarse voice, "… Tarantula… You really shouldn't be looking at me… The King before me made that law… It's not a good thing to break laws… Please go away…"

Stepping forward, Red heard a small clunk by her foot, glanced down, and saw a head band laying on the ground, partially covered by some rags. Connected to it were several strings, on which small, button-sized mirrors hung lazily. She bent, picked it up.

The King took a few moments to realize what was in her hands, eyes squinting as he rasped, "That's my disguise. Give it." One of his forelegs reached forward, the gray claws on the end spreading out like lusting fingers.

Red glanced back at the hole, had a mischievous thought, and skipped out of his reach. Hissing in new-found fury, the King lurched forward, but she was already through the hole, giggling.

"Wretched girl!" A black-brown leg whipped out of the hole, snatched at her, but she had placed herself safely; he couldn't reach her. "Give me it! Now!" The leg ripped at the web just two feet from Red's feet.

Red smiled, goaded, "Are you telling me you're trapped?"

"I am not, but I do not like the squeeze! Give it!" The King denied. "And I might let you live!"

"Come and get it!" Red teased. The hole was way too small for him to fit through!

"Fine!" Furious, the King poked his opposite foreleg through, hooked them on the sides the hole, and began to push through, obviously struggling but managing to inch forward.

Red's teasing satisfaction turned to horror. He could really fit through the hole? She backed away.

His ugly head through the hole, his front forelegs waving wildly as he fought to move, he growled, "Oh, I would go jump off the cliff now, girl. Be much better than what will happen once I get you!" He gave a furious pull, gained a good half of a foot. "And if it breaks… Ooh… I'll make sure you have pain before you die!" His second pair of forelegs pulled through.

Red turned, hurriedly scurried down the entrance tunnel. This was just like not-Hansel and his overprotective nature over that little palm-sized mirror of his! Were mirrors and mirror-hats or whatever this thing was worth so much?

The King gave a final grunt, pulled himself from the hole, and then took an instant to shake out the numb feeling in his middle legs, which had been squeezed against the hole's sides. Then, with an angry click of his fangs, he started forward.

Red had reached the ledge, was now staring down at the webs and floor below. Hearing the soft pad of heavy legs behind her, the snipping of the jaws, she glanced back, saw a black leg poke past the corner, gulped.

Coming around the corner, the King saw her there, trapped, and crawled forward slowly, sensing a small victory, the recovery of his stole possession and a good meal in one fell swoop.

Red smiled nervously, apologetically, and held out the mirror-hat, "I'm sorry."

"You had your chance." The King jeered, fangs trembling with anticipation. A bite with no venom, a dry bite, would most certainly dispatch of her. Why waste venom on so small a morsel? His back legs bunched up as he prepared to pounce.

Red stepped back instinctively and screeched as her foot fell into open air. Arms wind-milling, she vainly tried to keep her balance on the ledge, but couldn't. With a yell, she fell backwards, speeding down to hit the web below.

The web bent before twanging, but Red didn't bounce back up. She felt the stickiness of the thread under her, the stickiness that held her there.

The growl of a cheated spider reached her ears, and she turned her head to see the King picking his way slowly down the rocky wall. Reaching the end of the web, he put a foot to it, tested his weight on it. When the thread bent to a dangerous angle, he grunted, went to the left, and then reached for Red with a foreleg. However, he was still too far away, the leg falling a meter short of her leg.

"Sire!" came the exclamation of a surprised guard below. "What are you doing out of-"

"She has it…" grumbled the King, hunching on the wall as he glared at her, fangs rubbing against each other angrily. After a few moments, he continued downwards, "Let the Lieutenant in… And fetch the girl…"

"Yes, sir." The guard hurried to the grand doors, creaked them open, whispered for a few moments, and then opened them wide.

Not-Hansel crept in, instantly stopped when he saw his King without a disguise. For a moment, ultimate confusion registered on his face before he questioned, "You've sent them back?"

"No! The girl stole my mirror-band!" The King clicked furiously, motioning upwards.

"…Oh." Not-Hansel's eyes followed the pointing leg, locked onto Red where she lay, trying to twist her head so she could see what was happening below. He blinked, asked softly, "You're keeping her?"

"I'm eating her tonight!" snarled the spider, using his forelegs to itch at his fanged mandibles. "She's a bother _and_ a thief! You could have told me!"

"I honestly… didn't know." Not-Hansel said with a guilty look upon his face.

Red felt the web bend slightly, jerked her head to the right to see the guard using his spider legs to scurry across the web. Bending over her, he grinned sharply, used the small claws on the end of his legs to cut her free, and then held her securely as he made his way to the wall. Red did not struggle, for she knew the guard could drop her just as easily as carry her down, and the floor was still a good thirty, forty feet down.

The King grunted irritably, "Well then, you should do better research… So… Have you my stone?" His anger disappeared, replaced by eagerness and anticipation. He stepped forward.

Not-Hansel nodded, dug a hand into his pocket, and drew out the electric-blue demon stone, "It was in her house." He pointed at Red, who was still in the legs of the descending guard.

Excited, the King clicked his fangs together, hair fluffing up, and asked fervently, "Are you sure that that is it?"

"Yes, sire." Not-Hansel nodded. "So the only thing left to do now is to track down where that blasted memory eater has gone and make sure he doesn't merge.""Mm, yes… But keep him alive… We don't know much about them still… I'd like to study it…" The King rounded not-Hansel, taking him in from different angles, his eyes especially rooted on the demon stone.

The guard reached the ground, released Red, and shoved her down the floor with a whisper, "Don't make the King angry please. He's in a good mood now." He bit his lip before adding, "And don't steal mirrors. It's rude." He took the mirror-band from her, hurried over to the King, and tapped on his back leg, "Sire?"

"Mm?" The King turned, saw the guard with his mirror-band, and had instantly ripped it away from him. Letting it dangle from the end of his foreleg as the guard retreated to his station at the door, he thrummed with pleasure, brought it to his fanged mandibles, and gently looped the band up and under one. Instantly, he stumbled, once again looking like the Wolf, wide milky eyes wide and happy as he snatched the demon stone from not-Hansel, held it up to his eye, and cheered, "Finally able to see it! What a blue! It is beautiful!" He licked it, scrubbed it against his disguise's fur, and smiled as he gazed at it with a glazed look in his eyes, the glaze of imagining.

Not-Hansel smiled, "I'm happy you're happy, sire, and-"

A knock came at the door, and the guard instantly creaked it open, stuck his head out. There sounded the noises of soft whispers before the guard withdrew his head, turned, and called, "Sire… Your… cousin?"

The King blinked before nodding, hurrying to his throne, prying up one of the arm rests, dropping the demon stone in among the other trinkets inside, and shoving it shut. Sitting down, he nodded, "I'll-" He stopped, catching sight of Red, and then narrowed his eyes as to say, 'You'll see what I have in store for you afterwards', before growling, "I'll see him. Let him come in."

The guard nodded, opened the door, and then ushered in Irit, who was smiling and all cheery-eyed as he strolled towards the throne.

The King stood up, rushed forward with a happy smile, "Cousin!" He embraced Irit tightly, didn't seem to mind that no hug was returned, and then held him by the shoulders as he glanced him up and down. At the sight of the disgusting coat, he grimaced, "What are you doing in such horrible clothes?"

"They're my best. I have to wear my best when I'm coming to visit _you_, don't I?" Irit kept the fake smile on, his jaws aching. Oh! What harsh fate that he had to see his favorite cousin and still have this plot to trick him!

"Those are your best?" The King asked in a tone of sympathetic revulsion. "How… awful."

"Yes… But I didn't come here to talk about clothes, cousin… I came to talk about the originals."

The King's eyes widened before he let a sneaky grin creep upon his lips, "Oh… Yes… That reminds me… Are you hungry? I have a delicious little girl over there," He motioned to Red, "that I was going to eat after seeing you, but would you like to share? A small cousin-to-cousin brunch?"

Irit bit his lip, shook his head, "No thank you, cousin. I was talking about letting the originals _go_."

For a few moments, the King gazed at Red fondly, licking his lips, his stomach panging with lusty hunger. Finally, he turned his eyes to Irit, asked softly, "Let them go? What madness would seize me to do that? One is my original; if I keep him here, I can ensure that I live a good, long life and that I am able to fulfill what I need to do before I die… The little one?" He turned his milky eyes to not-Hansel.

Not-Hansel answered grimly, "Is loved by the Wolf. Without him, the Wolf would have pretty much _nothing _to live for."

"Yes, yes… And then the girl was just an added thing, because of the Lieutenant's original's needs. As far as her purpose goes, she's nothing but a good meal."

"Oh yes!" Not-Hansel's eyes lit up before he hurriedly muttered, "About that, sire, there's a bit of-"

Angrily, Irit let the false smile fall, hissed, "And I have a bloody whiny memory eater on my hands wanting your 'meal'."

The King stared at his cousin before echoing, "'Memory eater'?" He smiled widely, recovering from his shock, and grabbed Irit's collar, "You know where the memory eater is?"

"He's at my home and I am pretty sure he would die if you killed the girl."

"Fine, I won't kill her." The King said, not really paying attention, just eager to pry the location of the memory eater from his cousin. "Where is the beasty? Will you bring him-"

"You have to let the originals go. _All_ of them."

The King froze, eyes wide, and then grew angry, "Let them go? I will not do such a thing! I have a meal and my safeguard to a long life right there in my hands!"

"She's not a meal anymore, sir…. You said so yourself." Reminded not-Hansel miserably. "And, if I could speak, may I-"

"What?" snarled the King, no longer in a happy mood.

"…My original… He's… He's kind of going through a mental breakdown right now because he doesn't have the girl…" Not-Hansel fidgeted nervously, "So… If I may be so bold to ask, but, instead of the usual ration, could I have her? Send her back through? Keep my original from killing himself?"

The King stared at him before turning, stomping away from the two of them, "The whole world has gone mad! Let them go? I will not!"

Suddenly, Irit was at his cousin's side, his cooing, hypnotizing voice caressing the King's hearing, "Of course we're mad, dear cousin, but you must put it into perspective. As long as they're here, we have to keep these itchy disguises on. As long as they're here," Irit let a sad smile creep upon his face, "your guards might eat them." The King snapped his head towards him, his glare sharp and filled with suspicion, but Irit continued, "And what about your _health_, cousin? You know that you get irritable and sick whenever you're really stressed."

The King shoved Irit away angrily, "And you are stressing me right now!"

Irit fumed inwardly, decided to approach at a different angle. His voice dripping flattery, he lilted, "And I just _know_ how much you want a _memory eater_. That's what you were always talking about when you were little. I remember when you wanted to take a mirror and make your own memory eater, as a _pet_."

The King hesitated before turning, grunting, "That was long ago. Father beat me for it."

Taking his cousin's shoulders, Irit leaned forward, whispered into the King's ears, "But Uncle isn't here. Besides, this one's nice. He won't bite. He's actually quite dependent, and I know how you _love_ to have people depend on you, whether it's for food or shelter or drink… This could be your pet, cousin… I know you want it. All you need to do is let the originals go and I will bring him tomorrow, all for you."

Irit had definitely hit a bundle of nerves. The King was shuddering weakly, his eyes watering with want as he imagined the memory eater. Finally, he turned back to Irit, asked hoarsely, "A nice one, you say?"

"Very nice. And you don't even need to waste food on him." Irit said cheerfully, knowing that he was on the road to success. "He eats pinecones, sticks, _anything_ really. Very easy to take care of."

The King grinned widely, looking like a small child being told he would be given a puppy soon if he would just relinquish two of his favorite toys and his hated, burdensome little brother. "I'll give you… two of them."

Irit's face fell, "Three."

"No, I will only give two. That is how much a memory eater is worth."

"… Which one will you keep?"

"My original."

"And the girl and the other one?"

"The son? Hmm… I will send them back using the general mirror. That should satisfy the Lieutenant's needs too, will it not?" The King cast a lazy, smug glance at not-Hansel, who nodded happily.

"And… what about the original?"

"He will stay here, locked in his room, fed proper food, free of stress and worry. He will live a long life, as will I, and I will be able to complete my agenda for our world." The King strolled over to his throne, sat, and patted his stomach. "So… when do I get my memory eater?"

"Tomorrow, _after_ I make sure you've released the two originals. Then I will bring the memory eater in for you."

"…Tomorrow, huh?" The King tapped his chin, mulling over this, and then asked sourly, "Why not tonight? Could you not leave now and be able to bring him back by nightfall?"

"…I want to have one last good hunt. He's a really good hunter."

"And he doesn't bite… How odd." The King smiled softly, but his eyes glittered in a strange light as he gazed at Irit. "Fine then. Tomorrow afternoon, right after lunch. You'll come, I'll send them through with you watching, and then you will give me the beasty."

Irit grinned, nodded vigorously, "Of course, cousin." He turned, started for the door.

"Cousin?"

"Huh?" Irit paused, glanced back.

"Not even a friendly goodbye hug?" The King stood, spreading his arms wide.

Irit sighed, came back, embraced him, "Sure… Why not?"

The King snuffled into the shoulder of the scorpion's coat, "You need to come over more often, Christopher. It gets lonely-"

With a snarl, Irit hit him on the head, "It's Irit! Irit! How many times have I told you not to call me that blasted name of 'Christopher'? Thousands!"

The King rubbed his head, a mischievous grin splitting his face, "Of course, _Irit_."

Huffing angrily, Irit turned, stormed to the door, yanked it open, and exited.

Not-Hansel, who had been waiting off to the side, stepped forward, bowed, "Sir?"

"Oh! Lieutenant! I've forgotten about you!" The King hurried over to not-Hansel, motioned to Red, "Okay, here is what you have to do now: take the girl, have her fed, and claim _double_ rations, for both you and your son, understand?" not-Hansel nodded, smiling, and the King continued, "After, bring the girl back here, drop her off, and –oh!- make sure to tell regiment… _two_ that they have a free night tonight. They've been on duty for four days now, and I think they deserve a rest. Then…" the King bit his lip, squeeze not-Hansel's shoulder, and whispered, "Take a rest. You've been a great help."

Not-Hansel smiled at his King, politely replied, "Thank you, sir."

"Go on now." With a grin, the King pushed him gently away, motioned to the door.

Not-Hansel bowed, whirled on his heel, gave an almost guilty glance at Red, and then hurried over to her. Bending, he grabbed her hand, tugged her up, and whispered, "Come on. We'll go get you some food."

The King watched as not-Hansel dragged Red from the room before settling back on his throne and sighing, consumed with sweet satisfaction.


	55. Peter 'To the Rescue'

Red did not speak to not-Hansel, not one word slipping past her lips as her betrayer took her to the kitchen, found some food for her, and gave it to her.

Meanwhile, Irit was prowling the halls of the castle, searching for a guard of regiment two. They were the ones in charge of the two other originals, since the two had been imprisoned under their time on duty. Their captain would have the key. He finally found a guard, had him take him to the captain, and asked politely if he could see the two prisoners. When the captain asked 'why', he replied that the King had given him permission, no questions asked. The captain relented, took him to the room.

The Wolf was picking through the orange rinds, hungry again, when he heard the click of the lock unlatching. Blinking, he sat up, Peter's head resting on his lap.

The door opened, and the guard stayed sullenly back as Irit hurried in. Seeing the Wolf, he smiled, "Hello!"

The Wolf grinned back warily, "What… are _you_ doing here?"

"Here to give you a piece of advice." Said Irit cheerfully, digging both of his hands into his pockets in a casual manner. Coming closer to stand directly in front of the Wolf, he bent, withdrew his hands from his pockets, placed them on the Wolf's knees with a whisper, "Don't look down."

The Wolf gulped when he felt something little slip into the crevasse between his legs and hide under Peter's head. Restraining himself, he refused to look down and said quietly, "What was that?"

"He'll help you. You especially need to get out by tomorrow morning. I tried negotiating your release, but…" He shrugged, "Things came to middle-worse. If you don't escape by tonight, though, you'll be pretty much staying here for the rest of your life… and, frankly, I don't envy you." Lowering his voice even more, so it was just a shallow breath of air, he explained, "His name is Pooka, and he knows this place like the back of his hand. Whether or not you decide to follow a mouse is your idea. Oh, and he get ticked off easily."

The Wolf stared up at him before reaching down to caress Peter's head.

"Oh, and make sure to have your scraps. He'll be happy about that." Irit straightened, brushed his hands free of some little strands of fur, and then turned to the door, "I'm done."

The guard nodded, glared at him suspiciously, and let him exit before shutting and locking the door.

Instantly, the Wolf opened his legs wide, dug his hand in between them, and heard an annoyed squeak as he caught the mouse, "Eh! No! Let go of me, you big blot of fur!"

Holding the struggling white mouse up by the hind leg, the Wolf regarded it crossly, "You're the thing that's going to save us?"

"Yes, I am, _sir_!" spat the little mouse, successfully bringing itself up to climb onto the Wolf's hand. "Been in and out of this castle for the past five years, stealing little mites of food and generally ticking off the guards and cooks, but… The scorpion's offered me a deal, so I'll have my first breakout tonight."

"You're going to take us out of the castle?"

"Uh… no…" the mouse said uncomfortably, "I just have to get you out of the room and then _lead_ you to the courtyard. That's where it pays to be small, you know. You'll be most certainly sighted in the courtyard. That's where you run or fight or do whatever you do and I hide against the wall."

"…So how are _you_ going to get out of the room and get us out?"

"Get out, find the key, unlock the door."

"You can't even reach the knob!" accused the Wolf.

A little look of agitation came over the mouse's face, "I'll… I'll figure."

Sighing, seeing the point useless, the Wolf dropped the mouse, laid down, tugged Peter into his arms, and sniffed, "Well… Will Peter be let go at least?"

"…Judging from the King's words, yes."

"And… Red?"

"Red?"

"The girl."

"Oh! Yes, the girl will be released too."

"…" Sadly, the Wolf stroked Peter's ears, earning a little moan of happiness from his son. "Well… As long as Red is there to take care of him, I doubt he'll miss me… He'll have his," He struggled with the word, "mother back, in a sense… He won't remember me in a _week_, you'll see…" He kissed Peter's blackish-pink nose. "As long as he's safe and happy…"

Peter smiled in his dream, cuddled closer to the Wolf, and curled his little fingers into the fur on the chest of the Wolf.

"Touching, touching." Cooed the mouse before turning into a little ball of rage, "But both of you will be escaping tonight! I'll see to it! Either that or that demmed scorpion eats my family! Been paying him bits and pieces by the months to keep my family in his cave, since no rabbits or locusts or the normal predators go in there for _any_ reason! Then, out of nowhere, says he, 'You'll be breaking out two original's from the King's castle tonight, or I will eat your family'! Bloody unfair! Oh, and by the way…" The mouse scurried up to the Wolf, clambered up onto his shoulder, and sat, making himself a comfy seat in the thick fur, "I'm Pooka."

"I heard."

"Well then… I'll be- Are those oranges?" Pooka had caught sight of the small pile of orange rinds.

"Yes."

"May I have some?"

"Go ahead. I can't eat it." Moaned the Wolf, suddenly tempted to eat the annoying mouse.

"Oh… And what are those?"

"What are what?"

"Those." The mouse pointed at the corner.

The Wolf sat up, glanced over, and saw the makeshift crutches he had made for Peter the night before. Bits of a broken table plus some knots of torn bed cover had made usable crutches, but Peter still had to wake up and try them out. "Those are crutches."

"What for?" inquired the curious Pooka as he leapt down into the pile of orange rinds and began to nibble at one.

Feeling a ball of anger raise in his throat, the Wolf hissed, "My son is a cripple."

"Oh, yep, yep." Nodded Pooka, letting the tone of mock sadness creep into his voice, "Got a son too, but he got attacked by a rabbit, didn't make it. Well, at least you still have yours with you."

"I have a feeling you're lying." Grumbled the Wolf, caressing Peter's side absently.

"Well, I am! My! You'd be a great lie-detector." Muttered Pooka, a bit miffed that his lie had been caught but not about ready to argue with a creature several times larger than him. Extracting himself from the pile of orange rinds, he crept to the side of the bed, jumped to the carpeted floor, and disappeared under a nearby armchair. "And, with that, goodbye. I'll be back later tonight to _help_ you _escape_."

* * *

Red was back in the clutches of the King now, and he was having a fun time teasing her about, of many things, hunger.

"You're lucky, you know. I would have eaten you, enjoyed it too, but then…Ah…" The King laid back into his bed of rags and webs with a sigh of satisfaction, "You became of the best bargaining chips in my history… Two little, worthless originals for a memory eater?" He chuckled to himself loudly, grinned, and then glanced down to see Red glaring from outside of the hole, "You're not going to come in?"

"You tried to eat me last time I went in there."

A flash of anger sparked onto his face, "You stole my mirror-band! And made me break the first law of our state! 'No original should see a reflection in its original form!'"

"Then what about the rabbits and other little animals like that?"

"They're… they're exceptions." Said the King uncomfortably, two spider legs poking out from underneath him to scratch idly at his chest.

"…And why do you need to wear them?"

The King sat up, glowered at her, "Tell me this: most people in your world are terrified of bears and tigers and things much larger than them, yes?"

"…Yes."

"Imagine if they came here and they saw spiders and scorpions and the smaller things that they fear the size of bears and bigger. Would that not just send most of them into heart attacks?"

"But you would eat them anyway." grumbled Red. "What difference does it make?"

"Well, surprisingly enough, we used to have a very good relation with the original world." Snapped the King, eyes glinting.

"Really?"

The King nodded, "Yes. We would trade them things, such as magic books and good mirrors and… Never mind…" With a sigh, he slumped back down into his bedding.

"What?" Red's curiosity was sparked by his sudden and abrupt stop. When he didn't answer, she crawled in through the hole, crept over to him, and shook his shoulder, "What?"

"It's past history now." Grunted the King. "It's nothing, and it'll always be nothing." Rolling over, he gazed up at her before smiling grimly, "So… excited about going back to your own world?"

Red glared at him, "By the way you say it, you still want to eat me."

"I do." Admitted the King, licking his lips, before reaching up, tracing her cheek with a gentle claw. "There's no humans here, only animals, and I've only eaten a person _once_. About nine, ten months ago, someone came through the mirror, and, as all originals should be, was delivered to me… and I ate him. You people have such a wonderful taste." He itched at his stomach.

Red punched his arm angrily, "That's horrible!"

The King grinned sharply, "Yes? Really?"

"Really! It's horri-Hey!" Red yanked at her arm as the King grabbed it, started to drag her down to his side.

"Well, what's better? Me eating them, killing them quickly," He wrapped his arm around her neck, hugged her tightly to his chest, "or me just handing them over to my guards, who delight in pulling off limbs one by one by one?" He bent, allowed his mandibles slide out of his mouth to pick through her hair.

Red wriggled helplessly in his arms, trying to escape, "Let go! Let go!"

The King gagged gently before vomiting a few strands of webbing into her hair. The mandibles began to spread the webbing apart. He moaned softly before nibbling at her hair.

"Stop!" With an angry growl, Red bent her head, tried to bite his arm.

The King hissed, released her, and shoved her away, "Fine then! Don't like me! But I'm the one whose let you live for the past few days! I never get thanked anyway!" He dove under the rags, grumbling angrily, hatefully cursing everything in his world, including himself. Why didn't she like him? He had let her live this long, hadn't he? What a rotten, little girl! Full of prissiness and stubbornness and unthankful ingratitude! Why couldn't she just understand that all he wanted was to be thanked properly? A good 'Thank you, sir, for letting me live' would have sufficed, but no! No one ever said anything except for his Lieutenant! Horrid brat, this girl!

Red rubbed at the sticky webbing in her hair, glaring at the exposed tip of a spider leg, "Why should I thank you? You were going to eat me, you're mean and selfish, and you just… vomited into my hair?" She picked out a few threads, glared at them. "You were going to wrap me up to eat for later, weren't you?"

There it was again! That stark naïve attitude! The King struggled up from under the rags, bared his fangs at her, and snarled, "It's to show that I like you and you're under my protection, little ingrate! If I had been planning to wrap you up and eat you later, I wouldn't have been so gentle, do you think?" Fuming angrily, he added, "It was to put my scent on you."

Red grimaced, "What if I don't want your… your 'scent' on me?"

The King's fur stood on end before he rubbed his stomach and sniffled, "I'm tired. I don't know what I was thinking. Be quiet and let me sleep." He laid back down, feeling suddenly disheartened. Why had he tried to mark her? He wasn't saving her for himself… There was no reason to mark her… Just an impulse…

Red snorted, scooted back, and nestled in the farthest corner away from him. With a small growl, she muttered, "Well, I'm going to sleep over here, so don't you _dare_ come over."

The King couldn't resist. Smirking, he hissed, "Or what? What will you do? Lecture me to death?"

Red just glared at him before laying down, angrily pulling more web from her hair.

The King licked his lips, dove underneath the rags and web, and snuffled down into the softness. He would deal with the girl tomorrow. She would be out of his hands and he would have a much better pet instead. He smiled to himself, closed his eyes, and curled up. Tomorrow would be a good day… He just knew it.

A little snippet of thought ran through his mind, though, and made his open his eyes. The girl… Oh, she was a little one, but she yet had the courage to stand up to him… So odd, really, now that he thought about it. What possessed her to do so? Such a righteous wrath in a girl a fifth, a quarter of his true self… And yet she confronted him on each and every one of his habits.

How did she do it? He knew if he had been in her position, he would have been trembling, on the ground, trying to please his tormentor in every way possible and prove himself indispensable. How could she face him so bravely and denounce his every action, be it eating a long-dead guard or touching her? The King mulled over this question for quite a few minutes, pondering what reasons. Was she insane, a bit addled in the head? Was she so confident that she thought that she was immune from his punishments and from the cold fingers of Death? Or was she just a girl, a no one in particular? Then why? Why would she oppose his actions?

The King sighed, curled up. The girl was healthy for him, challenging him to think and ponder when he would have been just sitting there with a vacant stare on his face and a dull pit of hunger for his stomach. She made him _think_, made him come up with new options, made him wonder if he really _wanted_ to _give_ her up after all. She was the bright lamp that attracted the moths called 'ideas' to his mind, and it pleased him somewhat.

"We'll see tomorrow." He told himself sullenly, shoving the thoughts away.

* * *

The Wolf had fallen asleep in wait for the mouse. Curled up around Peter, snoring gently, he whimpered in a dream, shivered.

When Pooka finally came in, he was infuriated by the carelessness. Angrily, he turned, crept to the wall, and began clambering up one of the small slats that came up to knee height. He angrily gnawed at the wood before stomping down, squeaking as the tile fell from the wall, revealing a jagged hole. Bounding down, Pooka scurried to the bed, scrambled up the covers, and was about to bounce onto the Wolf's snout when he stopped, glanced at the hole, and gulped. The Wolf was way too big for that hole…

With a squeak, Pooka leapt onto Peter's chest, jumped up and down, "Little wolf! Little wolf! Wake up! Wake up!"

Peter sniffled, reached up with a hand to itch at the scant blonde fur covering his chest, "Papa… Stop it…"

"Little wolf! Wake up! Little wolf!"

Slowly, Peter's eyes blinked open, and he yawned softly before sneezing, asking, "…Papa?"

"No, no, no… My name is Pooka. I'm here to rescue you guys!"

"Rescue…?"

Pooka sighed, sensing oblivious innocence, "Okay… Well, let's just say you're in a bad place."

"A bad place?"

"Yes… Do you want to help me, little one?"

"But… but what about Papa?"

"He's too big to fit through the hole and I need someone to help me with getting the key and opening the door. Come on!"

"But…" Peter's eyes opened wide, and he hesitated, "I don't have my crutches!"

"There's some in the corner." Snapped Pooka in an annoyed tone, little foot stomping down. "Just crawl over, get them, and let's go!"

Peter bit his lip, confused, and stayed still and silent.

Angry, Pooka slid to his side, nipped at his side. Peter yelped, twisted away, and, the next moment, a thump sounded as he fell off the bed and onto the carpeted floor. Leaping down onto the blonde fur, he ordered, "Crawl."

Peter whimpered, curled up instead.

Pooka grabbed Peter's ear, yanked at it, "Up and at them, little cripple. Time to save both of your skins. Come on! Come on!"

Slowly, Peter uncurled, whined, "What… Where do you-"

"Go forward. You'll find crutches."

With a moan, Peter gripped the carpet in his claws, began to pull himself forward. His frail legs dragged behind him as he sluggishly made his way to the corner, where he found his crutches.

"Good now!" Pooka nodded before tugging at Peter's ear in the direction of the fallen wall slat. "Now we go through the hole and go get the ke-"

"Hole?" Peter's eyes widened.

"Come on! You have your crutches! All you need to do is crawl through and we're halfway done!" replied the mouse, exasperated.

"…Oh…" Peter's ears fell flat against his skull as he trembled, pulling himself in the direction Pooka instructed him to go. Within moments, his hand found the cold, mossy stone that made the floor of the small tunnel, and he hesitated before flinching as Pooka stomped a little foot against his forehead.

He crawled forward, his makeshift crutches screeching behind him as they dragged across the stone floor. More than once, he hit his head against a jutting stone, or felt a sowbug scuttle away underneath a paw, which always resulted in a disgusted squeal.

Pooka just sat, sighing to himself. Why did he have to be stuck with a small, blind cripple who was scared of little bugs?

* * *

The tip-tap-tip of the wooden tips of the crutches echoed down the silent hallways, the sound stopping when Peter stopped and hesitated.

Pooka was fuming, "Come on now! By the time we get the keys and open the door by the way you're _walking_, we'll be here till next evening!"

Biting his lip, Peter whimpered, "My legs hurt."

"Well, you can rest once this is over!" Pooka growled loudly before scurrying down the hall, sticking close to the wall as his white tail flailed behind his little pink paws.

Peter sniffled, "But… Shouldn't we have told papa?"

"Your dad wouldn't have let you go. I can tell that, and I really need you. Turn right here."

Peter slowed down before limping down the new hall, his blonde fur on end as his ears swiveled back and forth. Pooka paused, stuck his nose up in the air, and then hissed, "Little Wolf, left! Go left!"

Peter turned to the left, blinked in confusion as Pooka hit the edge of his foot and ordered, "Sit down and be quiet."

Deciding to listen, Peter leaned against the wall, slid down slowly, and curled up against the wall, feeling Pooka scramble up his leg and hide beneath the a lock of blonde fur. The sounds of guards' murmurs sounded, and the heavy tramp of metal tipped boots came from down the corridor. After a few moments later, Peter stilled when he felt the breeze brush against his fur and Pooka stiffen against his sin.

"Heard about the memory eater?"

"Yes."

"What do you think of that?"

Peter waited until the guards' footsteps faded before he gripped the wall, struggled up, and whispered, "Are those bad men?"

"They would eat you alive. Do you mind if I stay here?" asked Pooka, hanging from the edge of his shorts. He scrambled up, hooked his little paws under the lip of the shorts, and snuggled against the fur.

"Sure." Said Peter, a sob staining his voice. There were men who would eat him? Why wasn't papa here? He wanted papa so very much! What if the bad men caught him and ate him?

When Pooka saw a small tear drip down past his little resting place, he stared up, saw Peter's eyes watering, ears laid back his skull, mouth open as he took rattling, choking breaths. Annoyed, Pooka snapped irritably, "Little wolf, don't you dare cry!"

"But-but," blubbered Peter, sinking to the floor, releasing his crutches, and putting his hands to his eyes to catch his tears, "there's bad men… and-and… they want to eat me… You said… and… and Papa's not here to help me… I'm useless… I can't walk and I can't see and… How can I save papa? I'm a nothing!" He started to sob loudly.

With a snarl, Pooka used the fur to climb up to Peter's shoulder, hissed into the ear, "This is not a time to cry, little wolf! Stop crying! You can show what you can do to your papa if you do this! You'll be a someone instead of a nothing! Come on!" Furious, he jumped up and down, squeaking angrily.

Peter sniffed, little sobs racking his body, before reaching up, grabbing Pooka, and hugging him gently, "You'll make sure you won't leave me to die?"

"I'll bite their legs off!" said the little mouse, bristling with annoyed irritability. "Now… let go of me!"

Peter giggled through the tears, sniffled, "Oh, okay… Thank you…" He set Pooka on the ground gently before fighting his way up, stiffly limping forward.

"This way." Squeaked Pooka, rushing down the hall.

"Which way?" asked Peter.

"…Turn left… More, more, there! Forward now!" Pooka waited for Peter to catch up and then ran forward.

* * *

They continued down the hall, Peter limping, Pooka scurrying like the mouse he was. The torches in the halls were dim, burning out, and shadows stretched into much bigger illusions, monsters consuming the walls. The webs covering the ceiling twinkled in the faint light, swaying gently in the slight draft that so frequented the corridors.

Finally, Pooka stopped in front of a door, whispered, "Wait here."

Peter's ears twitched, hearing the little squeaks as Pooka squeezed under the door. Several times, his mind conjured sounds of gnashing teeth and the horrid, dooming sound of tramping boots, but there was no real noise, just his paranoid imagination.

He squeaked when he felt something brush against his leg, before relaxing when Pooka whispered, "It's good, just be really, really quiet… Now, open the door."

Peter reached forward, felt around for the doorknob, finally found it, and twisted it gently.

Pooka held his breath, whispers quivering, as the dark room was revealed. The guards of group two were fast asleep, draped tables or chairs or each other with their legs splayed in every direction, close to each other as they tried to conserve body heat. Across the floor were empty bottles of cheap wine and scattered pieces of stale bread, molding cheese, and rotting scraps of meat. From the ceiling hung the remainders of the main entrée of their meal: a deer, judging from the horns that poked out of the freshly defiled skull.

Peter grimaced, "It smells-"

"Shh!" hissed Pooka, shivering, "Be quiet… Now, you have to be careful. There're legs everywhere and they'll go mad if you wake them up."

"… They'll eat me, won't they?" said Peter with a quiver in his voice.

"Yes… Now… Go forward _slowly_."

At a snail's pace, Peter limped forward, his crutches clicking. His thin, vein-laced feet felt the griminess of the floor underfoot, and he paused to sulk over the icky feeling before stepping forward again.

Seeing a leg in front of Peter, blocking the way, Pooka whispered, "Okay… One crutch at a time, okay? I want you to put your crutch out far, okay? Not like you usually do, but just a bit farther." Peter lifted his right crutch, pushed it slowly forward, encouraged by the mouse on his shoulder, "Yes, yes, that's it… Now put it down… Now the other."

Peter put the other crutch forward.

"Now, I need you to _not_ step on the spider leg that is between you and your crutches."

Peter gulped, asked weakly, "Does it belong to a bad man?"

"Yes."

"…I don't…" Peter took a deep breath, thought better of protesting, and hurriedly stepped forward, successfully stepping over the leg without touching it.

Pooka sighed in relief, congratulated sarcastically, "Good, now… Just the hardest part."

Peter stiffened, "A hard part?"

"The captain's right in front of you… And the key is on his belt. You need to get it from him."

"But, I can't-"

"I'll be your eyes."

"My… eyes?"

"Yes." Pooka climbed down from Peter's shoulder, using locks of his fur as handholds, and then dropped to the floor. Scampering over to the captain, he carefully scrambled up to the man's bloated stomach, began to wiggle at the belt's buckle, and then whispered, "Little Wolf, you need to kneel."

Peter slid to the floor, carefully put his crutches aside, and reached forward.

With a snarl, Pooka hissed, "No! I tell you to move! You do not move without me saying so!"

Peter froze, nodded fearfully.

"Okay then… Go forward just a bit… There. Now…. Down… down…" Pooka watched Peter's hands lower to the man's belly before commanding, "Stop!"

Peter stopped, and Pooka began to quietly instruct him how to unbuckle the belt. For the next few agonizing drawn-out minutes, Peter struggled with the belt, Pooka making him stop whenever the captain groaned or flinched away from the touch. Finally, Peter had unbuckled the belt, and Pooka hurriedly dragged the key down the length of the brown leather, slipped it off the end, and carefully kept the keys from jangling against each other. "Good. Now, pick me up, put me on your shoulder, and we'll go back and unlock your father."

Peter felt gently around, finally found the mouse, and lifted him up with gentle hands. Setting the small animal on his shoulder, he found his crutches, battled his way up, and, turning, started forward. The feeling of confidence and pride wormed up into his small chest! He had successfully gotten this far, helping the mouse rescue papa, and he felt as if he were doing a great job! Maybe he wasn't so useless! With the thought, his tail began to whip furiously behind him.

He made his way back to the door, grabbed the knob, and opened it. Stepping out, he heard the whispered congratulations from Pooka, "Good job. We just need to get back to the room now."


	56. Escape and Captivity

The guards of regiment two, in all, had devoured a deer among twenty men, drunk more than fifteen bottles of cheap, sour wine, and had eaten more than seven whole loaves and two rounds of foul-smelling cheese. In short, they were stuffed, drunk, and dreaming.

About ten minutes after Peter and the mouse had infiltrated their quarters, a guard snorted awake, stomach panging with pain. Rolling over, he vomited before coughing loudly, clearing his throat, and groaning as he stood up. He stumbled forward blindly, tripped over the leg of a neighbor.

The neighbor snarled awake, a painful headache pounding at his skull. Seeing his drunk companion twitching on the ground, he growled, "Bloody wine gave you the drunkies too?"

"Urgh…" The guard on the ground moaned, grimacing, "Stop talking so loud, Custer."

"Talking loud? You're the one who's waking people up from good sleep." Moaning, the neighbor staggered up, stumbled over to the hanging deer, and poked it before grunting, "Hardly any meat left… Good Lord, were we really that hungry?"

"Yeah, yeah…" groaned the guard, curling up, trying to fall back to sleep and ignore the taste of vomit that trickled in his mouth.

"Ah, shut up, ya two…" came a whispered hiss from the captain, rolling over.

"Captain… you wouldn't happen to have willowsbark, would ya?"

"He's got the drunkies, sir." Explained the neighbor as the captain's eyes opened and his teeth bared in a snarl.

"Willowsbark? Why would I give it to him, even if I had it? I could eat a whole willow tree right now, just to kill the headache!" The captain put his head into his hands with a small whimper before stiffening, grunting, "Where are my keys?"

* * *

"Sire! Sire!" The guard scurried up the wall, wide-eyed and frantic. Skirting a thread of the spider web, he scrambled up to the tunnel, bent, crawled in, and then called again, "Your majesty!"

In his small sleeping chamber, the King snorted softly in his sleep, turned over, and curled into the fetal position, legs curling in to scratch at his stomach.

With a desperate moan, the guard pulled himself through the small hole that served as a door, fell down into the rags face-first, and immediately began to dig, "Sir! Wake up!" He paid no attention to the sleeping girl in the corner.

At the first brush of the guard's hands against his legs, the King snarled awake, immediately snapped two of his legs out, sending the guard catapulting back to hit the wall. Angrily, he sat up, snarled, "What are you doing up here? I told you guards to never come up here… And _never_ into my room!"

Scrambling up, the guard said weakly, "But… sire… The originals…"

"What about them?" asked the King sharply, wiping sleep from his eyes in annoyance. Stupid guard! Something happened and they couldn't figure out for themselves, whatever the problem!

The guard trembled as he stammered, "They're… The door's open and unlocked… and your original and the other one… they're gone… and... and…" He trailed off, cowering against the wall when he saw the King's bloat with rage.

"You what? You let them escape?" snarled the King, fur on end, legs twitching violently. Grabbing the guard, he spat into his face, "Your captain has the only key! He was with you when the key was stolen, no? How did it happen? Are you fools?"

"Sir…" moaned the guard.

The King paused, blinking, and then sniffed gently at the guard's mouth. He sighed, smelling the harsh, sharp odor of cheap wine, and dropped the guard, "Of course… You have the drunkies. Explains everything."

The guard hastily bowed to the floor, shivering, "Yes, sir. I am sorry, sire."

The King ignored his underling, pursed his lips, and fingered his chin before hissing, "Is the rest of the regiment looking for them?"

"Yes, sir!"

"…Mm… That's good then… Make sure you don't hurt them… This must be Irit's treachery… Hmm…" His eyes had fallen onto Red, who was still dozing. Striding over, he knelt, stroked her hair gently, and then grunted, "I will join the search."

"That's fine, sire!" hurried the guard, nodding vigorously, "I'm sure that we'll fin-"

"You, however, will go down to the mirror makers and tell them that I need two mirror-bands." The King turned to the guard, held up two fingers.

"Huh?"

The King motioned to Red, "I've been cheated. Irit has gone behind my back and somehow helped them escape." The feeling of betrayal crossed his face, and he struggled to retain his composure before mumbling, "That means I keep _all_ the originals… But I've promised that I won't kill the girl, but I don't really mind now…. She has the innocence of the original world in her, and I need that to bounce my ideas off of her… She'd help me see the bad parts of my plans…" He scratched at his neck slowly, hesitant. The thoughts from the previous night tiptoed into his mind. She made him think, she made him come up with new plans. Originally, he would have made one plan, kept to it, killing anyone who was an obstacle, but now… There were several ways to achieve the same goal, were there not?

"But… the mirror-bands, sire? What are they for?"

"The first will be a reflection of her, to fool Irit. He'll be positively _furious_ when he figures out it's not her." The King chuckled.

"And the other?"

A fond look crossed the King's face. "I don't want to eat the girl… Maybe… Just have a mirror-band that'll make her look like a spider… That'll curb my appetite… Your kind, perhaps. Small, easy to beat down if she gets to unruly… But tell the mirror-workers not to give her fangs that are _too_ sharp… " For a moment afterwards, there was silence as he grasped what he had just said. There was a good excuse to keep her, and he wanted the only prize he might be keeping to remain his. Disguising her into something unappetizing like a small, black spider was a safe alternative to just leaving her as she was.

"Sir!" The guard was horrified. Their King keep the original? That was against common sense, let alone the sense of comfort! He didn't want to have to wear his mirror-band every day because the King wanted a pet! "You can't! It's-it's unheard of! Think of the people and how they would-"

"Do it!" snapped the King angrily, glowering at him. "I am your King! I do not care what they think of _personal_ things! Matters of state, fine! I will hear them! But this is my own personal liking, and I will have no one destroy it! It is to make our country _better_!" When the guard hesitated, pale and frightened, he snarled, stomped towards the hole.

"No! I'll do… I'll do it…" said the guard, ashamed of himself for questioning the King. He took a step back, however, just to be safe.

The King's ruffled fur flattened as he relaxed, "Oh… Good then… So… Do we have _any_ idea where my original and his brat are?"

* * *

After having raided the guards' quarters, Peter and Pooka had hurried back to the cell, unlocked the door, and had hastily wokne up the Wolf. The Wolf, who had no idea what had happened, grew angry when Pooka summed up the whole adventure in a sentence, was about to growl and lecture when the first howl of angry surprise rumbled down the hall. Instantly, the three were out of the room, the Wolf carrying Peter in his arms, who in turned held the crutches and the small mouse who had been the mastermind behind this daring escape.

They barely had managed to avoid the guards on several occasions, but had successfully found empty corridors and nicks in the wall to hide in whenever the guards came too close.

Pooka, after watching the silhouettes of guards' legs hurry past the opening of the hole they had crouched into, had whispered, "We won't be able to make it to the courtyard even… We need to go down to the subbasements. No one ever goes down there."

"Why?" the Wolf had inquired hoarsely, comforting Peter as the little wolf shook in fright.

"No reason." Pooka had said quickly, in such a way that the Wolf knew he was lying. However, he had decided to follow the mouse that had helped them thus far.

They had snuck through the halls and down staircases that became more rotten the further down they went. The walls became slick with moisture and moss, and the webs on the ceiling disappeared, only to be replaced by hanging threads of vegetation. Instead of stone, the floor became creaking, rotting wood, full of holes and crawling with pillbugs.

Peter was once again on his crutches, happily limping in front of the Wolf as his father eyed him warily, ready to spring forward and catch him should he trip and fall. "Papa, there's crunches!" He swung a crutch forward, put it down, and giggled when the crunch of a pillbug being squashed cracked through the air.

The Wolf grimaced, knowing that Peter didn't know 'what' was crunching. "That's nice, Peter."

"And see? I can walk good with my crutches!" Peter started to limp forward faster, his little arms swinging the crutches forward to an inner beat.

"Peter, don't go too fast." Growled the Wolf, lengthening his strides to keep up with Peter.

On the Wolf's shoulder, Pooka was licking his little pink paws, brushing down his fur, and then pulling at his translucent pink ear as he sniffed, "Spiders hate the wetness of this place. They have holes on their sides, you know, that they breathe with, and they can't close them like your mouth. So… if they fall in water, they drown, and that's rather bad for them. They prefer the dryer places up there." Pooka pointed up at the ceiling.

The Wolf stopped, glared at the mouse, "And, apparently, so do I."

"…Oh…" Pooka twitched, a bit miffed, and then looked away before squeaking, "Little wolf, left! Left!"

Peter, just about to swing his crutches forward into a wall, froze before turning to his left, disappearing around the corner.

Loudly, the Wolf called, "Wait there, Peter. I'll be right there. Just wait." He turned his milky eyes back to the mouse and asked quietly, "What is the chance that we'll get out of here alive?"

"Hmm… Let me think about that…" Pooka tapped his chin for a few moment before saying dryly, "Well, I can't answer that, but I can tell you what will happen if we're caught… You would certainly not die. The King won't allow it. Your son, half and half. Me…? The spiders catch me, they'll swallow me down whole just because they think it's fun!" He stomped a foot down angrily.

"… But… what are the chances we get _out_ of the castle?"

"Well, I've never been to the subbasements, but… I know there's an old escape down here somewhere, but no one knows _where_, but I have a good idea in what area."

"Oh… Good…" The Wolf sighed, relieved. "That means our chances are pretty-"

A yelp came from around the corner, "Papa!" Immediately afterward, the noise of splashing water echoed into the Wolf's ears.

Instantly, the Wolf bounded down the hall, ears perked as they swiveled in search for sound, "Peter?" He turned the corner, froze when he saw the large hole where the rotten planks had given way, and then scrambled to the edge, peered down.

Peter sat in knee-high water, shivering, about ten feet below. His makeshift crutches lay in splinters besides him, but Peter didn't seem to be hurt in any way. Glancing up, he whined, "Papa… What happened?"

"Another reason they moved to the upper levels." grumbled Pooka.

"You fell, Peter." Said the Wolf, ignoring the mouse, glancing about to see if there was any length of cord that he could drop in and use to haul Peter up. He saw none, glanced at the sullen mouse, "Can you find some rope?"

"Yes!" Pooka leapt off his shoulder, skirted the hole, and ran down the hall, squeaking.

The Wolf returned his gaze to Peter, flinched when he saw Peter's eyes widen, glistening with tears, and quickly cooed, "Peter, no, don't cry. You're okay. We're going to get you out of there. Just stay still."

Peter put his hands to his eyes, choked down the urge to cry, and whimpered, "It's cold down here…"

The Wolf was about to reply when he saw something surface in the deeper water that was a little ways from Peter: one of the water creatures that had plagued him and Hansel when they had been trying to reach the mirror house back in the real world. Heart leaping in his chest, he hissed, "Peter, stay still."

Peter froze before whining, "Papa…?"

"Be quiet!"

The water creature sniffed lazily in the direction of Peter before swimming over and, when the water grew too shallow for swimming, crawled to the shivering little wolf. Peter curled away from the creature's first inquisitive nuzzle, causing the thing to croon, wrap around him, and rub its scaly head against the scant blonde fur. A little frill on its back raised in happiness. The Wolf gulped, not knowing whether the monster was working up an appetite or really caring about the little thing that had dropped into its midst, before seeing several other shadows worm up from the deep parts of the water. Within seconds, a dozen of water creatures had all flocked to Peter, sitting around him, each trying to get its turn to nudge him with a nose in a friendly manner.

Peter's fear disappeared, and he began to giggle happily, "Papa! They're tickling me!"

Relieved, the Wolf smiled softly, called, "Well, you certainly have a lot of friends down there."

At the sound of his voice, several of the creatures' heads turned up to see him. A small group immediately detached to swim just under the ledge of wood he was kneeling on, staring up him with mirrored eyes and friendly but sharp smiles.

The Wolf smiled uncertainly at them.

Suddenly, every creature was around Peter again, snarling, hissing, their scales flaring on end and clinking against each other as they glowered up at him. The Wolf stared, unsure of what he had done. Did they not like smiles?

Peter became frightened once more, calling, "Papa? Papa?"

The Wolf was about to reply, ready to reassure his son that the monsters that seemed to like him would do him no harm, when he saw his shadow in the water, or, more specifically, his undulating shadow and the larger one that seemed to be swallowing it up. Just as he realized what it was, he heard a loud 'click' behind him, along with the rustle of coarse hair.

Jerking up and whirling about, the Wolf yelped and leapt back just as the King, now out of his disguise, leapt for him, fangs bared and seven eyes glinting with black rage. The King missed, and the Wolf splashed down into the water below as the water creatures hissed, milling around their new-found friend, snarling at the spider who glared down at them.

"Original..." hissed the King, his forelegs poking through the hole as he started to follow the Wolf, "you shouldn't have run… Guards! I have found them!" He roared the last part loudly, fanged mandibles clicking angrily together.

The Wolf started to wildly flail, trying to swim back from the spider as the King dipped a foreleg towards him, intent on yanking him out of the water. Suddenly, he felt sharp things prick his forearms before he was dragged down by two water creatures, who swam straight down as the spider leg stabbed down into the water where he had just been. Hissing angrily, the King jerked his leg out of the water as a creature snapped at it. The Wolf struggled, large bubbles of air escaping his lungs, but the water creatures held him down. Finally, just as the last bubble slipped out of his throat, they rushed upwards. He gasped loudly as soon as they breached the surface before crawling onto the shallow bank.

Peter was sobbing, a water creature dragging him back, trying to help the little wolf distance himself from the angry, clicking spider. Coughing out water, the Wolf sloshed forward, took Peter gently into his arms as the water creature released him, swam past to join the swarm that had flocked under the spider, snapping and hissing their warnings. The King clicked angrily before lumbering around, transferring to the opposite wall slowly, carefully, and nearing the place where the Wolf and Peter sat. He would be able to reach them from the wall.

The Wolf struggled up, Peter dripping in his arms, and ran towards the low tunnel at the end of the small hall. It was tiny, only about a meter and a half across and two feet above the water, but it would suffice to protect them from the furious King. So intent was he on the tunnel that he did not pay attention to the depth of the water in between. The lake's floor suddenly dropped from under him, and he took an involuntary breath of water before gagging, kicking up, and pushing a choking Peter up onto the shallows and retching out his own lungful of water. However, the Wolf squeaked as two water creatures seized his legs and dragged him down under the surface just as a black-brown, hairy leg snatched at where he had just been. Snarling in annoyance, bristling in anger as he stepped off onto the shallows, the King slapped a water creature away before pausing, black eyes squinting as they made out Peter's form. Instantly, a foreleg reached forward, hooked around Peter's waist, and pulled him up.

The Wolf surfaced, coughing as the water creatures surged forward, snapping their jaws angrily as their friend was stolen by this spider. However, one stayed back and kept a solid hold on the Wolf's tail as he fought to swim back, enraged, frightened, and acting on fatherly instinct.

Crawling back onto the wall as the water creatures tried to slash at his legs, the King hissed, "Original… Come back here… I have your precious, little brat…" He snarled as a creature leapt up, bit at his leg, and climbed up a meter higher, where the monsters couldn't reach him.

The Wolf kicked at the water creature, tears coming to his eyes, "Let me go! Let me go!" Turning his face forward, he cried, "Peter!"

A water creature leapt high up, clutched onto the rocks where he landed, and then jumped up, biting down harshly into the spider's side. Screeching, the King lost his footing, fell down into the water. Instantly, the water creatures swarmed him, biting at his legs angrily. The King battled his way up, snarling, Peter lost from his grasp, and bit down into a water creature.

Instantly, it shattered.

The Wolf squeaked in relieved happiness as a creature hastily dragged a shivering Peter out of the fray, dipped down into the water, and swam his bundle over to him. Grabbing Peter, the Wolf turned, swam for the low tunnel.

"Papa! Papa! They hurt me! They hurt me!" sobbed Peter into his father's shoulder, shivering uncontrollably. A ring of bleeding dots rounded his shoulder where the creature had bit down to drag him out of the way of certain death.

The Wolf pulled himself into the comforting darkness of the tunnel, crooned through his relieved tears, "Yes, Peter, yes. It's okay. It's okay. It'll heal." He hugged Peter, kicking to stay above the water all the while.

The second they passed into the tunnel, the water creatures whirled about, dove down into their underwater refuge. Bleeding, limping, the spider roared his anger before jerking about as a voice came from above. "Sire!"

"You bloody idiots! How long has it been? You took your demmed time and they bloody got away!" The King crawled up onto the wall, labored to reach the hole, and then pulled himself up, leaving a trail of bluish-black blood behind him.

"Sir! You're-"

The Wolf flinched as a guard captain was sent catapulting down to land in the water. Instantly, he was struggling, all eight legs extended, waving wildly, as he flailed with his arms and legs. He managed to reach the shallows, scrambled up, and stood there, petrified because of the water that surrounded him.

The King rested on the edge of the hole, apprehensive and frightened guards at his side. Lazily dangling his forelegs over the edge, he muttered, "You like talking. Talk to the mirrors and get those bloody crocodiles on our side."

"Sire! Please!" whined the captain, pale, "Please let me come up! You know water! We hate it! Please!"

The King clicked his fangs together before sniffing, "Fine…" Lurching up, he limped down the corridor, grumbling to himself.

The captain scaled the wall in record time, the energy that fright gave him causing him to scurry up the wall madly. Murmurs of sympathy came from his fellow guards when he reached the hole.

The Wolf slowly pulled himself away from the tunnel's mouth. He might as well follow it, see where it led too, and, if they were still in the castle, hope that the little mouse found them, if it was still alive.

Peter lay quivering in his arms, still whimpering, "They hurt me… They hurt me…"

* * *

Red lay in peaceful sleep when the King thrashed his way through the hole, anger causing every one of his rough black-brown hairs to stand on end, each of his seven eyes glinting with rage. What a horrible start to a day! His original had escaped and his favorite cousin had betrayed him! What horrid luck!

Burying himself into his rags and balled-up webs, the King fumed angrily, ignoring the bites that marched up and down his legs. They were scabbing now, but blood still leaked out from the wounds, staining his bedding black-blue. He only noticed after rustling into a more comfortable position, and then swore loudly, turned onto his back, and angrily tearing some webbing from the ceiling, which he wrapped around the bloody tips of his legs. He only then remembered his captive. Twitching, he turned over, stumbled over to her, and settled down to watch her. He sat there for several minutes, his bad eyes blurring her form whenever he moved to brush some blood from his forelegs. Finally, bored, hurt, and hungry, he reached forward, jabbed her violently in the stomach.

Red sat up, gasping, and then choked as she tried to cough. The sound interested the King, and he inched forward, fangs grazing the ground as he perceived her in a brighter and better picture. Oh, what an interesting sound she made, almost as if she were suffocating!

Red caught her breath after a few rasping breaths, turned her watering eyes up to the seven black eyes that stared down at her, and then grumbled, "You couldn't let me sleep?"

The King clicked his fangs together before grating, "I'm keeping you."

"What?" Red started up, eyes widening in surprise, "But… Irit… He-"

"Helped my original and his son escape." Growled the King, finishing her sentence for her. With a swimming-like motion of his arms, he successfully buried himself halfway into the bedding before allowing himself a hefty groan, "And I got bitten _several_ times by the blasted mirror things." He raised his legs up, revealing the wounds, hoping he would somehow gain some sympathy from his little 'pet'.

Red grimaced at the sight of the nasty wounds before crossing her arms, declaring, "Well, I'm _happy_ they got away."

The King grumbled, his legs vanishing underneath the cloth.

After a few moments of silence, Red asked quietly, "I thought you said that you didn't want to 'break the law' by taking off your mirror-band thing."

"Shut up." Grunted the King.

Red smirked smugly, knowing she was annoying him, "You were so uptight about it and now you don't really care."

"Well, delightful for you, isn't it?" snarled the King angrily, lurching up, turning, and stalking to the opposite corner, which only put two more meters in between them. Settling down there, face turned away from her, he growled, "I'm tired of it. Maybe tomorrow or the day after I'll announce that the law has been put down… The disguise was too hot, and tiring, and I couldn't really feel comfortable…. But I hope you'll like yours."

"Mine?" Red asked quizzically.

"I sent down order for the mirror-makers to make a new mirror-band. Since I get to keep you, I'm going to make you wear it, and I won't teach you how to take it off either."

Red stared at him before squeaking, "A mirror-band of _what_?"

"I don't know. The guard gets to choose what species. Maybe a longlegs, maybe a black widow… Maybe a tarantula…" He let a sly note slip into his voice as he added the last spider to the list.

Pursing her lips, Red glowered at him, and then flinched when he heard an excited voice call, "Sire! Sire!"

The King instantly was at the hole of the bedroom, rather reluctant to pull himself through. Instead, he pushed his forearms through, waved them wildly, and saw the guard peeking around the corner, "Come! Are you here to deliver the-"

"The two mirror-bands? Yes, sir." The guard came closer, stopped at the hole, and then asked uncertainly, "… Would his Majesty like me to stay out here or to come in?"

"Come in." The King retracted his legs, backed up, and then clicked his fangs happily as the guard slid in, "Which one is for the girl?"

"Blue ribbon is her reflection," The guard held a mirror-band with a blue ribbon attached, and then held up the other, "and the red ribbon is the spider. Apparently, the mirror-maker had fun with it by the way he was smiling. Don't be mad if you think it entirely horrible." He held it out.

The King dipped a foreleg through the band, held it up, and inspected it before nodding, "Good work."

The guard glanced at Red, who bristled, and then asked slowly, "Sir…? Who should I give the mirrors to?"

"Just keep it somewhere safe." With a happy sigh, he turned to Red, held it up, "Come here, girl. I need to put this on you."

Red curled up into a small ball, glared at him.

Sighing, the King motioned at Red, "Bring her here."

Red shrieked as the guard immediately stomped over, grabbed her up, and held her with her arms pinioned to her side as the King tried to lower the band onto her flailing head. After a few misses, he snapped irritably, "Hold her head too, idiot!"

The man's forelegs poked out from under his armor, grabbed her head, and held it still. Relaxing, the King gently crooned his approval, lowered the band onto Red's head.

A feeling of ice washed over Red before she suddenly fell from the guard's grasp, feeling suddenly dry and itchy, as if her skin had been under the sun too long and had baked. She started to reach up, intent on scratching the dryness that so irritated her arms, especially her shoulders. A small pain scraped against her chest, and she glanced down, froze when she saw seven reflections of a long, white spider leg twitch where she thought her arm to be.

The King's furry foreleg inched forward, wrapped around her before she could react, and tugged her to him, "Mmm… White and red… You look like a candy…"

Red panicked, began to wriggle in his grasp, her new eight legs flailing in each direction. Her five new eyes confused her, adding overlapping images to the two she was used to, completely disorienting her.

Suddenly, she felt a small scraping sensation on what she could have called her stomach, glanced, down, and saw the tips of the King's forelegs gently running up and down her abdomen. Suddenly exhausted, she shivered, wrapped her legs around one of the bigger spider's forelegs, and was, in an instant, asleep.

The King paused, raised his foreleg, and regarded the small white and red spider attached to it curiously. He knew the feeling after trying on a mirror-band for the first time; it was exhausting and odd. "Did they have to make her so small? She's a sixth my size, the size of a," He set down his leg, used another to delicately scrape her off, "dog."

"It's the mirror-maker's idea." replied the guard weakly.

"Hmm… Well, she's cute like this, but she really does like a peppermint candy…" The King bent, inspected the small girl-turned-spiderling, and then asked, "I hope that the mirror-maker didn't make her venomous, did he?"

"He said he didn't include that."

"Mm… Good. When she wakes up, I'll have to teach her how to speak again. She'll be rather useless for the next few days, just trying to get a hang on how to use her body…" The King laid down, sighed happily as he stared at the white, curled-up spiderling before suddenly standing, "I can give her my spare room!"

The guard sighed, "I thought you closed that off because your pets turned it into a stink house."

"It's been almost a year now. The stench is bound to have gone away – I did clean it out, you know- and it's just…" The King stopped, glared at the small hole, and then grunted, "You tear down the web and tell me when you're finished."

"…Sir… You know that we can make a bigger opening if you need it." The guard said softly.

"It's fine. I'm still able to fit through it." The King clicked his fangs in annoyance.

The guard nodded, slipped through the hole, and then called, "I'll put the disguise of the girl on your pet basket."

The King nodded absently, turned back to Red, and, slipping a foreleg through her curled up legs, lifted her, dug a small hole in the rags, and then lowered her inside before covering her. Happily, he buried himself before quivering with satisfaction. She would be an excellent help in aiding him reform his country! He just knew it! She was exactly the type of person he needed help from, and he was going to be able to keep her!

* * *

After twenty minutes of feeling his way through the dark, sometimes swimming, sometimes crawling, the Wolf finally reached the exit of the tunnel, was delighted to find that it deposited them right on the banks of an lake outside of the castle. Dragging himself through the water, he chirped, "Peter, we're out!"

Peter shivered in his arms before whispering, "It's cold."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Peter… It's just that you're wet…" The Wolf brushed a lock of hair out of Peter's slitted eyes.

"…And they hurt me."

"Peter…" sighed the Wolf, "It's just a bite mark on your shoulder. It'll get better."

"No…" moaned Peter, tears leaking from his eyes, "My back… Not my shoulder… My back hurts…"

The Wolf rolled his eyes, gently twisted Peter around, not expecting anything more than a few scratches or an unfortunate bite mark. However, what he saw were two horrid holes in his side, the edges already black with infection and white with pus.

As he stared, the Wolf felt Peter's body tighten before the little wolf vomited, the slight pressure that the Wolf's arm against his stomach enough to cause his already upset stomach to empty.

"Peter… Oh, Peter…" The Wolf patted his son's back softly, helping Peter clear his airways of whitish-pink bile.

Peter groaned, long strings of throw-up hanging from his mouth, "Papa…"

The Wolf turned Peter back over, wiped some of the vomit off of his son's chin, and whispered, "Shh… We'll get to someplace warm, okay? Now, try to sleep okay? You'll feel better."

"O… okay…" Peter shuddered, curled up against his father's chest, and immediately dozed off.

Softly, the Wolf nuzzled his son with the tip of his nose, smiling sadly. Poor Peter… He just kept getting into bad situations, didn't he? What he himself would not give to have Peter released from this long string of bad encounters...

Sighing, the Wolf kissed Peter, settled down to rest his weary legs and to stroke his shivering son.


	57. Venomous

The day was cold and murky, the sky above a dull grey as water-soaked clouds trundeled along. The sun was hidden behind the clouds, turning into a bright halo of grey instead of being its usual yellow-white circle.

Irit and the memory eater strolled down the trodden-down dirt path, murmuring softly to the other.

"Remember the plan?"

The memory eater nodded slowly, "You go in, talk, call. I follow, be nice. Girl memory already through mirror. You distract, I leave into mirror too."

"Yes. Good."

"And… original and Peter memory already leave with help of mouse?"

"Yes."

"That good." The memory eater stopped, catching a glance of a rather large pinecone that lay temptingly just off the path.

Irit saw where his attention was centered, sighed, "You can eat after. I'm sure the girl will make you a good, hot meal when you get back to the original world."

"…Mm… But…" The memory eater stepped over, took it up, and crammed it into his mouth before swallowing with a happy moan.

"Of course. 'But'. 'But' _what_?" sighed Irit.

"Smell mouse."

Irit was about to scoff when he felt something tug at his pant leg. Glancing down, he saw Pooka, bristling with fury on his shoe, forced a smile, and growled, "And there he is! The little mouse himself! Now… where are the originals?"

"Something went wrong."

"What?" Irit's blood chilled before he snapped, "What happened?"

"They found out too early and the Wolf and the little wolf fell down a hole and went out an old escape tunnel… I think they'll come out near the lake, perhaps."

"So the King knows."

"I followed him back up to his throne, then followed a guard to the mirror-makers. They made a reflection of the girl and a disguise of a spider… I guess they want to trick you into believing that they really did send her back and then have you give them the memory eater still."

"…" Irit fumed angrily before asking, "The lake?"

"Yes."

"Good. We can reach there." Irit bent, made to grab Pooka up.

Pooka leapt back, snapped, "I did my share! You promised!"

"So I did." Said Irit sulkily.

"I'm not in this anymore! It's too dangerous! I'm going home!"

"Fine!" Irit kicked at him, missed.

Immediately, the white mouse had disappeared into the snow.

Whirling, furious, Irit snapped at the memory eater, "Come on! Change of plans!"

The memory eater nodded eagerly, "Plans still though, right?"

"No, I do not have a bloody plan! Just follow!"

Ears laying back on his skull, the memory eater sulked, "But… liked plan…"

* * *

The Wolf had taken a rest by a small creek that fed down into the lake, taking time to wipe away the blood and vomit on his little boy. Every spot of black infection he scrupulously, gingerly scraped away with a claw, causing Peter to sob in agony. The bubbles of pus that were forming were also popped and washed clean with the creek's water. 

"Papa… please stop… it hurts…"

The Wolf sighed, pulled Peter close to him, and whispered, "Sorry, Peter, but I have to. That bite had yucky stuff in it."

Peter didn't hear him. He was already asleep, exhausted from the pain.

The Wolf smiled softly, caressed his son's ears, and then balked when he heard footsteps behind him. Muscles freezing up, he screwed his eyes shut, prayed for whatever or whoever was behind him to continue on their way without attacking him.

A warm hand clapped onto his shoulder, and Irit whispered, "Hello there."

The Wolf stared up at him, remembering the scorpion, before jerking when a pressure found his other shoulder. Glancing over, he saw the memory eater resting his head on his shoulder, gazing down at the sleeping Peter, "Peter memory okay?"

"Yes… He just has a small infection, but I cleaned it out."

Irit nodded, motioned, "Come with me. I'll take you back to my home. You can lay him down the fire there."

The memory eater whispered, "Lives in a cave. Cold."

"But warmer than outside." Snapped Irit, catching the remark.

The Wolf smiled, stumbled up, and then turned to the memory eater, "Do you mind… holding him? I have to wash my hands." When the memory eater gave him a questioning, dumb stare, he explained, "I cleaned out his wound. My hands have yucky stuff on it."

The memory eater nodded, took Peter, and instantly grew puffy with pride as he cradled Peter, "I good holder. See? Peter memory sleep still."

The Wolf nodded, a small, tired smile on his face, turned, bent, and began to clean his hands of grime in the creek.

Irit strolled over to the memory eater, leaned over to cast a friendly eye over the battered and tired Peter, "Well, he looks like he's had his share of fighting, the little warrior." He chuckled before turning to glance at the Wolf, "Did he beat the spiders with his crutches?"

"No, but he made friends with the crocodile things that come out of mirrors and had a good time siccing them on the King."

"Ah… Cousin probably didn't like that." The scorpion turned back to Peter, ruffled the fur on Peter's stomach before freezing as a little trickle of blood streamed down from Peter's nose.

The memory eater yelped, began to stammer, "Didn't do it! Didn't do it! Not my fault! I do not touch the nose!"

The Wolf stared at the two in stupefaction before asking worriedly, "What's wrong?"

"Bleed from nose! Bleed from nose!"

Irit's eyes grew black with rage as he slowly turned towards the Wolf, "You could have told us he got_ bitten_ by my cousin!"

"The King? He got bit, but he was ok-"

"My cousin has venom, idiot!" Snatching Peter away from the memory eater, he sat down, turned the little wolf over on his knees, and glared at the two fang mark in his back. "And he injected some into the poor thing…" He turned Peter back over, wiped some blood away from the little wolf's nose with a thumb.

"What?" The Wolf's eyes widened before he asked hastily, "Can't we feed him something? Something to counteract the poison? Like, if you eat those little red berries, you can eat mint leaves and-"

"It's venom, fool." Said Irit darkly, fuming, "It has a cure, but that would involve going back and asking cousin nicely. He would _eat_ the boy instead."

The Wolf's eyes lit up with fear, "But… What do we do then?"

"Nothing. It's too short a time anyhow." Irit massaged Peter's stomach, grimacing, "Judging by how he feels and the fact its only been forty minutes since you escape, more or less, you'll need to get it done in the next two hours or I'll be able to eat his insides through a reed."

"What?"

Slowly, Irit growled, "It's _digesting_ him from the inside."

The Wolf moaned, dropped to his knees, and dragged Peter to his chest, whimpering, "No… Please no… I'll do anything! Irit, please tell me there's something I can do!" He turned desperate, tear-filled eyes to Irit, who stared back stony-faced.

"I refuse to send you to your death."

Hearing the sentence, immediately jumping to the conclusion there was an option, the Wolf pleaded, "Please, Irit! What? What must I do?"

Irit bared his teeth, about to snarl a retort, before pausing, mulling it over angrily, and then grumbling, "How far are you willing to go?"

* * *

The cave that Irit led them to was deep and dark, half-submerged in water and floating with dark-red lakeweed. Unlike other parts of the lake, where fish swam in swarms, there was no life in this alcove. 

Handing Peter to the Wolf, a grave look on his face, Irit whispered, "It's like a nightmare room, but the illusions can touch and tear, not like the nightmare rooms in your world, where you only _see…_ Are you sure you want to do this? If it doesn't work out, you're condemning the two of you to a violent death."

"I'm sure." Said the Wolf in absolute stubbornness. "If Peter dies, I die, and that bloody monster who poisoned him will die too!"

"..." With a soft whisper, Irit said, "It admires courage sometimes, and humility the other times, but, in general, it will be hard-to-please. I went before it once, and I barely escaped… So… Be careful. I want to get the originals out of here alive."

The Wolf nodded, turned, and sloshed into the water, the red seaweed immediately clumping to his legs. However, when he heard another small splash, he glanced back, saw the memory eater following with bright, eager eyes.

"…You're coming with us?"

The memory eater nodded vigorously before squeaking, "Might be danger. I help."

"…Fine." The Wolf waded up to his chest before kicking off into the deeper water, Peter's head draped over his shoulder. From the shore, Irit noticed a small trail of blood that had started to trickle down from his ears to join the torrent that was still leaking from his nose, but the Wolf didn't notice.

The memory eater bobbed after them, paws whirling through the seaweed as he panted happily, ears perked to their full height. Just him, his original, and the Peter memory were going on an adventure! How exciting!

Irit watched sadly as they passed from the sunlit water to the darkness before settling down, preparing to wait to see if they would ever return.

* * *

The water, cold and grimy, clung to the Wolf's coat like a weight, causing him to tire quickly, but he was determined to reach the mirror to save Peter, who was mumbling weakly into his shoulder, disoriented. Behind them, the memory eater had slowed his dog-paddle, his sharp eyes casting left and right, picking out definite lines in the darkness. Two times did a water creature surface under the Wolf's arms, towing him a small ways to provide the weary animal a chance to rest before disappearing with a hiss. The third time one came up to help him, another grabbed its tail to drag it down, growling a hasty warning. 

They were not supposed to help, it seems, and doing so might anger their master.

Finally, the Wolf, Peter, and the memory eater swam into a large cavern, which glowed with a soft light from a luminescent moss that clung overhead. In the middle, on a small island, stood the mirror, and the Wolf recognized it an instant. It was the same as the one from the nightmare room in De Lille, the one that had created the memory eater in the first place. Suddenly, the memory eater surged past the Wolf, issuing an excited squeak. Within moments, he was at the island, crouched before the mirror, wagging his tail as he gazed at his own reflection with a happy smile. Fervently, he whispered into the reflective surface.

The mirror's surface sparked. Instantly, several water creatures rose up next to the Wolf, roiling against each other as they vied to be the one who helped him. After much friendly jostling and encouraging croons, they nudged him up onto the sand before disappearing back into the water.

The memory eater turned, whispered, "Look… It's my papa…" He turned back to the mirror, rubbed a paw to wipe the moisture away.

The mirror glinted before a soft, tired, undulating voice, one that would have belonged to an older man, creaked out, "Ah… It's you…"

The Wolf's fur fluffed up. A mirror that talked? How could it-

He hurriedly pushed away the thought, scrambled forward with Peter in his arms. Kneeling next to the memory eater, he pleaded, "Please, mirror! Please! My son got bitten and he's dying! Please help! Tell me how to make it go away!"

A mist formed over the surface of the mirror before it solidified, becoming the Wolf's reflection. Smirking from within the mirror, he drawled, "And who said I would help?"

"Please?" whined the memory eater, wagging his tail hopefully behind him.

The mirror's milky eyes turned to the memory eater before he sighed, "And look what you have done to my little boy… Instead of being a real person now, he's still just a mixture of stones and mud." The mirror's surface suddenly wiped clean.

The Wolf heard a liquid sound behind him, turned to see a shapeless form, slightly humanoid, stepping across the water, the liquid spilling up to complete it. It wasn't until he stood up, ready to meet the thing, when it hardened into the form of a lithe, white-haired man. It was neither tall nor short, the water undulating as his legs constantly changing his height, and its face was emotionless except for the hatred that burned in the two black pits that took the place of eyes.

The man leered, "So you want to help your little one, is that the deal? What will you give me?"

The Wolf scrambled forward, shivering, "Anything! Anything you want and that I can give!"

"Anything _you_ can give?" the man echoed softly, a tired chuckle creeping from his throat as he stepped onto the shore, "The last person who came in here told me he would give me _anything_, but never added that he had _nothing_ to begin with." He passed the Wolf, who suddenly grew rigid as a freezing sensation penetrated his skin and muscles, and then knelt to gaze into the memory eater's happy eyes. Softly stroking the creature's head, he whispered, "It is wise to show that you do have limitations."

The memory eater shivered with delight before butting his head against the man's chest. Smiling, the mirror let himself drop away, splattering against the ground as water drops.

He wrenched up in the center of the lake the next moment, arms crossed, eyes narrowed as they surveyed the Wolf, "As for our discussion, we will make the deal. I require blood, three mirrors to a person, and, because of this, you will have tests. Three deaths of my creations will earn you your cure. Of course, I will not make this too easy," He splattered down before reappearing in the mirror, leaning back on a comfortable-looking red arm chair, "for I am an evil mirror. Do not get me wrong, for I do want to help, but there is a price to everything." He grinned pointedly out of the mirror at the Wolf, who was staring, "If I get bored of a battle, I will switch it and give you a new opponent. What say you to that?"

The Wolf bit at his lip, glanced down at Peter, shivered when he saw the blood leaking from his eyes. Coming close to the mirror, he laid Peter down, nodded, "I'll do it."

The mirror smiled sharply, "Well then, I believe I have monsters to create." He vanished from the mirror.

* * *

**OOC: Oh no! Another nightmare room? Peter poisoned? Fighting monsters? Oh well... Because of this new development, the time in the story will rather topsy-turvy (five hours passing here, ten days passing there)... I'll try to make it easy to understand and not confusing. Good day to all of you!**


	58. Only Reflections, But 'Deadly'

The Wolf stared at the mirror, shivering, before hearing several liquid splashes from behind him. Turning, he saw the water rising up, solidifying into thick trees, low bushes, and meticulously turning a dark cave into a sunny afternoon out in the woods. The mirror behind him disappeared, probably to protect itself from the fight it had promised, and the Wolf immediately heard the sound of chirping birds, buzzing bees, the natural sounds of the woods.

A new noise split the relatively peaceful atmosphere: a soft whistle, obviously from a human's throat.

The Wolf's ears were twitching, swiveling as they tried to capture the direction from which the sound came, when the first harsh report of a musket being discharged slashed the woodland sounds in half. Instantly, a piercing, annoying pain sliced into the Wolf's shoulder, and he whirled angrily to see the mirror's reflection of Hansel, grinning in a half-insane manner, shoving powder down the throat of his gun as he reloaded.

The Wolf's harsh hiss faded, replaced by a confused look. The mirror thought Hansel was a monster? He had been expecting the King's clicking, angry fangs, or the large water monster that the two of them had faced at De Lille.

Hansel raised his musket once more, loosed a shot.

The Wolf yelped as a musket ball grazed his arm, cutting a thin scratch across it. Falling down to all four paws, he bounded behind a few bushes, trying to make himself less of a target.

The reflected Hansel followed, grinning. A low, distorted voice, that of the mirror, hissed out, "Come out, Wolf… Come out to play…"

The mirror's voice echoed,

"Rain, rain, go away.

The Wolf will be forever be here to stay.

His little boy will rot away.

Time to fight, I say."

A raucous laugh followed, the mirror enjoying his joke.

The Wolf groaned. A mirror who liked making up his own poems too? A mirror that killed? What kind of backwards person made these things?

Hansel drew close, eyes burning with hatred, "Wolf…"

The Wolf leapt out from the bushes, intending to bowl him over. However, Hansel swung the gun up, caught him in the stomach, and sent the Wolf crashing back. Smiling, Hansel raised his gun, aimed, and fired. The Wolf bucked as the shot entered his side before rolling over, diving back into the bush. The bullet had not gone deep, but it hurt! This Hansel was definitely not acting like the real one would have.

"Wolf…"

"Original!" The memory eater scrambled up to the Wolf's side, fur fluffed up. "What you want me to do?"

The Wolf stared at him before snapping, "This is my fight!"

"My papa never said I can do no help. Tell-"

A shadow fell over them, and the Wolf rolled away quickly as Hansel fired a shot at his head. The dirt exploded into the memory eater's face, who sneezed.

"Ah…" Hansel delivered an angry kick to the memory eater's face, "You brought a friend."

The memory eater scrambled up and away, followed by the Wolf, Hansel allowing them time as he paused to load powder and a bullet into his one-shot musket.

Taking refuge behind a tree, the Wolf hissed at the memory eater, "Well, if you want to help, kill it!"

"…But…" The memory eater shivered, "I don't kill."

"I've seen you tear a man in half! Don't tell me you'll hesitate to bite!"

Stubbornly, the memory eater stated, "I help, but you kill! Girl memory hates it!"

Hansel's voice oozed out, "I heard that, mongrels…"

The Wolf ducked down as the stock of the musket came swinging around the tree, chipping quite deeply into the wood of the tree. Immediately, he rammed his head deep into the man's stomach, knocking Hansel over with a grunt. He scrambled to jump onto him, intent on not letting him up. Before the Wolf could follow up on his attack, however, Hansel kicked out, catching the Wolf in the face. Yelping as he was bowled over, the Wolf struggled up as the memory eater went after the dropped gun.

He reached it just as Hansel crawled over to it. Snarling, Hansel grabbed the memory eater's scruffy neck.

Instantly, they were engaged in a fist fight, howling and spitting like cats as they rolled wildly on the ground. The Wolf stared before hurrying to grab up the gun, raising it to his shoulder, and waiting for Hansel's back to be open before firing. The memory eater squeaked in surprise as the bullet ripped out of Hansel's chest. Immediately, Hansel slumped, blood bubbling on his lips as he struggled weakly. Apparently, the bullet had severed his spine, and his arms would barely move as it was. Slowly, the memory eater sat up, stared at the dying man, and then down at his front. Ruffling a hand through his fur, he found the bullet, covered in red gore, and then threw it away from him with an enraged squawk. "Bad gun!"

With a final moan, the reflected Hansel fell still, blood pooling under him.

"…First one down, two more to go." The mirror wrenched up from the ground, his cold smile and mere presence chilling the Wolf's blood. He stepped forward, onto the pool of blood, and it began to vanish slowly.

The Wolf shivered to see the man's face flush as he absorbed the blood. "… Well, if they're all like Hansel… We shouldn't have a problem."

The mirror man waited till he had finished getting the blood he needed before nodding, "And that is why I'm changing the rules." He vanished.

* * *

Suddenly, the landscape around them changed, the warm colored oak trees turning to the cold and bare black trees of the mirror world, and snow now appeared on the ground around them.

The man reappeared, grinning widely, "You are granted the gun. Whether it is of use to you without bullets and powder is entirely," He held up a lock of Peter's fur, "up to you."

Seeing the blonde fur, the Wolf snarled angrily, "What did you do to him?"

"Oh, I hid him." The man leaned back against a tree, smirking. "Whether or not he ever wakes to see another morning is entirely up to you… Your new opponent will get him as a good snack if you don't hurry. Find him and be the good father to the rescue… _if_ you can." He smiled nastily before splashing down as water against the snow, melting the white snowflakes wherever the water touched.

The Wolf motioned to the memory eater furiously, "Hurry up! Help me find him!"

The memory eater nodded, scrambled up, and followed the Wolf as he sprinted from their current position. For the next few minutes, the Wolf and the memory searched vainly, calling Peter's name and trying to find any trace of him. Finally, the memory eater stilled, ears flicking back and forth, and then pointed, said simply, "Monster's that way."

Instantly, the mirror's voice giggled excitedly, "Oh yes! Yes! That's the right way! I thought you'd never start going that way! I'm so glad at least one of you has an ability to locate things!"

The Wolf ran in the direction that the memory eater had pointed in, snarling, "Shut up!"

"Oh, dear, such a temper!" mocked the mirror before whispering, "Your son has about a minute left before he dies by your enemy!"

The words only gave the Wolf another burst of speed, and he rocketed forward, the gun clasped in his hands, his knuckles tight around the barrel.

Seconds later, he ran into small clearing, saw a circle of anchored chains in the center leading upwards. Eyes following them up, he froze when he saw Peter hanging upside-down from a paw, unconscious. The bleeding from his nose, ears, and eyes had increased with the pressure, now staining most of his blonde face a disgusting red. However, the Wolf's eyes were instantly drawn to the large black-brown spider that had its legs outstretched, straining to reach the prey that dangled so temptingly at the end of the chains. Its legs snatched at the air just a few feet from the helpless wolf pup, and clicks of annoyed hunger came from its dripping fangs.

Dropping the gun, the Wolf leapt for the chains, yanked at the wooden stakes that kept them secure. The memory eater was at his side in a moment, but in vain. The wooden spikes would not come up.

A broken chuckle rasped out, and the mirror appeared on the branch opposite to the spider. Giddy with glee, he rocked back and forth, chanted,

"Hickory Dickory Dock,

The spider stalks up the clock!

To and fro,

The wind will blow

The boy into his jaws!"

Chuckle breaking off, a maniacal growl replacing it, the mirror swatted a hand towards Peter. Immediately, a soft wind began to blow, and the small burden that was Peter began to swing towards the spider. Excited, it snapped its fangs together, stretched out as far as it could, and clawed for him, but he swung back just in time, a bleeding pendulum.

Just as Peter had finished his next swing and started swinging back towards the spider, the stake securing the chains jerked out of the ground. Instantly, the little wolf plummeted.

"Catch the chain!" The Wolf grabbed wildly at it, as did the memory eater. When he did manage to catch it, he flinched as the metal sliced into his palm, gouging a deep scratch with its rough, rusty metal.

The tarantula clicked in annoyance, just as a mask of fury pasted itself onto the mirror's face. Vanishing, the mirror snarled, "Well, what are you waiting for? Get them!"

With a little clack of its fanged mandibles, the tarantula bunched up, readied itself, and then leapt down. Where it hit the ground, the snow blew up into a flurry, momentarily blinding it. The Wolf backed away, hurriedly letting the chain out as fast as he could. He couldn't fight with the only lifeline to his son in his hands!

"Hmm… Save yourself and let your son drop to his death, or both die? It's an easy thing to do, to let go…" whispered the mirror from his invisible watching place.

The Wolf snarled, "Shut up! Stop talking, you blasted monster!" Turning to the memory eater, he hissed, "Take the gun and just keep it away until I get Peter down!"

The memory eater nodded, grabbed up the gun, and then ran forward to swing it at the tarantula just as the flurries of snow died down. Emitting a small hiss, the tarantula backed away, its forelegs reared back, its body lifted to reveal its shiny black fangs and the venom that dripped from them. Fur on end, the memory eater brandished the gun in front of him, teeth bared. He would stand to the end protecting his original and the Peter memory!

Snapping its fangs together, the spider lunged at the insolent little 'bug' that dared to stand up to it. With a squeak, the memory eater ducked under the fangs, brought the stock crashing up against the spider's middle. Angrily, the spider twisted about, its legs thrashing under it. One sent the memory eater cartwheeling behind the furious and cheated tarantula, who was trying to still scratch out the pesky thing that was no longer under his stomach. Stumbling up, the memory eater leapt forward, hit at the tarantula's back. Instantly, it whirled, enraged, and dove for him.

The next moment, the memory eater was lying on the ground, dazed. Clicking triumphantly, the spider turned, started for the Wolf.

The Wolf took a desperate glance up. Peter was only twenty feet up in the air, but the fall would still certainly kill him. He couldn't release the chain just to save himself! Gulping, he hurriedly released the chain, caught it when Peter had fallen five feet, and yelped when the chain cut his palms again. The tarantula reared, ready to lunge forward, and the Wolf braced himself, closing his eyes, ready to keep his hands on the chain even if the thing should bite him. He would not let the spider get his son while he was still alive, even if it cost him his life!

He heard a sudden squeak, opened an eye.

The memory eater stood in front of him, the tarantula's large, black fangs digging deep into his shoulders and back as the spider stood still, shivering with pleasure as it registered it had actually _caught_ something.

"Original…" came a choked sob before the memory eater's body slumped down, being only held up by the tarantula's fangs.

The Wolf stared before biting his lip, dropping the chain, catching it so Peter stopped a mere three feet from the ground, and then lowered him the rest of the way. Slowly, the Wolf set down the chain, stepped forward hesitantly.

Instantly, the spider scuttled back, happy that it had caught a meal and anxious to drag it somewhere quiet to eat it.

A sudden blossom of rage screwed its painful way into the Wolf's stomach. How dare that _monster _even touch his friend? The memory eater had leapt in front of the blow to save him, and the spider was going to slowly devour him? Leaping after the spider, the Wolf grabbed up the first thing he could, a large stick, and snarled in a feral manner as he closed in on the monster, who was obliviously pulling the memory eater closer to the small mouth under the fanged mandibles, which dripped strong digestive acids as it readied to receive the food. The Wolf jumped under the quivering belly, gripped the stick in both hands, and furiously drove it upwards. There sounded the loud –CRACK!- of carapace cracking, and, instantly, the tarantula dropped his prey as he reeled backwards, snarling. Black blood dripped from the spider's underside as it reached under, legs scrabbling at the stick that had used its body as a pincushion.

The Wolf hurriedly grabbed up the memory eater, dragged him away from the hurting monster, and then knelt, whispering, "Are you okay?"

Empty eyes met his.

Shaking the memory eater, the Wolf felt tears raise to his eyes, and he sobbed, "No, don't be dead… Wake up…"

An enraged click warned him just in time to jump back and away as a heavy leg slammed where he had just knelt. Coarse hair on end, stomach leaking blood whenever he moved, the spider followed him warily, cautious because this aggressor may decide to poke another stick into it, but furious and hungry all the same.

The Wolf bared his teeth, snarled loudly.

The tarantula lunged, incensed by the sound. Diving down into the snow, the Wolf felt a leg brush across him before the shadow of the spider fell onto him. Hurriedly, he scrambled up, yanked the stick out of the monster's belly, and scrambled out from under it. It lumbered about, charged at him. The Wolf waited till the last possible moment before leaping back, letting the fangs snap into open air right in front of him. However, before the spider could draw back, the Wolf grabbed the mandibles, used them to vault himself up onto the tarantula's flat head.

It hissed, raising its forearms frantically as it grew fearful for its eyes.

The Wolf raised the stick before thrusting it down with all his might. Another loud crack sounded, followed by a small croak as the tarantula stumbled forward, and then a dying hiss as it slumped to ground. Immediately, the Wolf leapt from his perch on the dead spider's head, hurried over to Peter, scooped him up, and then ran over the memory eater. Dragging up his breathless body, he began to carry them away from the corpse of their enemy.

The mirror appeared before them, smiling sharply. His giddy disposition had reverted back to its normal quiet and rather morbid attitude, "What's this? Respect for the dead? How _wonderful_."

The Wolf turned angry, teary eyes towards him, bared his teeth with a sob.

With a soft chuckle, the mirror drew closer, extending a hand, "I said three of my _creations_ in our original deal, yes? Give me him. I made him. It will count as your third, and I will cure your son."

Staring at him, the Wolf stepped back, shaking his head, "…I can't… He died to save me, to save Peter…" He clutched at the memory eater's fur, afraid that the mirror may try to take the body by force.

Dumbfounded for a moment, the mirror slowly recovered, his surprise becoming anger, "He didn't _die_! He was _killed_! Because you wouldn't give up your demmed son!" He bared his teeth, jeered, "It's your fault! All your fault!"

The Wolf shivered with guilt, nodded weakly, "But… I couldn't… He's my son… I can't just let him fall and die when he hits the ground!"

The mirror's eyes grew hungry when he saw the look of guilt on the Wolf's face. His voice suddenly falsely cheerful, he leaned forward, cooed, "And what I don't understand was that he was my _creation_, my _son_ of mud and rock, and you end up being the one crying. Is the _guilt_ so bad? Maybe you should leave before anything _worse_ happens…"

The Wolf turned up a teary glare and choked, "We stick to the original deal. I have one more of your bloody monsters to defeat, and you will then heal my son."

Licking his lips, the mirror nodded before whispering, "I will give you thirty minutes for rest. Do not worry about your son. I've control over time in my little world." He flicked a finger at Peter.

Suddenly, Peter's ragged breaths vanished, and his chest stopped moving up and down.

Instantly, the Wolf hissed, "No! Don't do that! He has to breathe!"

"He is." Smirked the mirror, stepping back as he cracked his knuckles, "Very slowly. These next thirty minutes will be only a minute for him. Then… If you desire, I will leave the body of the spider, if you are hun-"

"I am not."

The mirror smacked his lips dryly before sniffing haughtily, "Well then, I will just dispose of it." Fading away, he whispered, "Thirty minutes, remember."

* * *

Irit sighed softly as he ate his rabbit, waiting for the Wolf, Peter, and the memory eater to come waltzing out of the cave, even though he doubted they would survive. He had become tired and hungry, had gone back home to sleep, hunted that morning, and then had returned to eat in front of the cave, gazing at it somberly as he absently chewed.

How could he had let them go in there? It was a death sentence! He had barely been able to escape when he had been sent in, but he had been able to give up just one of his eight legs and be granted access to the exit. Seven out of eight legs was somewhat normal, not like some of the other people who came out missing half of their bodies, dead and floating on the water.

With a sigh, he threw the rabbit to the side, grumbled as he glared at the ground. He had lost his appetite with just the thought of the danger inside, what they were probably facing right now… Why was he still out here, being the coward?

"I want to stay alive." He grunted, answering himself.

The thought still nudged at his conscience though, and he finally stood, stomped away into the trees. Seven hours had been enough of a wait! He was going home to sleep and to forget two days full of waste and loss. Hopefully, that would put him in a much sunnier disposition, and he could finally have some peace of mind.

The Wolf had pleaded to go in. It wasn't his fault!

* * *

The King poked sullenly at the red and white spiderling, grumbling under his breath with impatient annoyance. He wanted to play with his new little 'pet' and 'friend', but she wouldn't wake up.

"Wake up…" He rolled her over, stroked her back.

Red's leg curled up under her as she clicked softly.

Amused that she thought she was saying something, the King picked her up with his forelegs, lifted her out of the hole he had made for her earlier that morning, then watched fondly as the thin white legs uncurled and waved uselessly in the air. She was almost _translucent_, a physical trait he found admiring. A peppermint candy colored spider just for him, right when the snow was just making its last stand before disappearing to wherever it went. What a Christmas present!

Red slowly came awake, her mind sluggishly waking up from its previous overload. Momentarily stunned the moment she saw the light around her, excruciatingly bright compared to the darkness the King had dragged her out from, she reeled for a few moments before recovering her senses. With a sudden little hiss of fury, she buried her little fangs into the foreleg that was closest, anger surging.

Surprised, the King dropped her, and she scuttled forward before tripping down into the hole in the rags, landing on her back at the bottom, and waving her new appendages uselessly as she tried to right herself. What horrible eyes! She could barely see directly in front, but see everything above her! What uselessness! An angry feeling of helplessness wormed up from her stomach.

The King's foreleg curled around her and picked her back up. Softly, he cooed, "Feisty one, aren't you? You'll learn."

Red, still upside down, waved her legs slowly in the air. What an embarrassing situation!

With a happy sound, the King turned, crawled to the hole, and pushed her through. She lay on the floor for a few moments, trying to bring her eight new appendages to obey her, before staggering up, tripping forward as the King began to battle his way through the hole, his enormous bulk somehow managing to squeeze through a hole four times smaller than himself within a minute. His middle legs trembling softly as they tried to shiver out the feeling of being squished, the King crept up on Red, who had stopped to calm her ailing stomach. The seven reflections that made up her vision kept making her dizzy, and a sickly feeling usually accompanied these bouts of dizziness.

She squeaked as the King scooped her up with a foreleg, wiggled her legs as she tried to escape vainly. Chuckling, the King strolled to the opposite side of the room, pushed aside a little curtain of web he had weaved, and then held her to the mouth of another little hole, this one definitely too small for him.

Slowly, Red forced her two forelegs forward before tangling up her legs, tripping into the hole.

The other side was a smaller version of the King's 'bedroom', except no bedding lay on the floor and the webs on the wall and floor were brown and dry, crackling to dust the instant Red fell upon them.

The King poked a leg through, nudged her up, and then retracted the leg as he whispered, "This is your room."

Red stumbled back and forth, confused. Room? She didn't want a room! She wanted an escape tunnel that led back to the real world!

She heard a small ripping sound behind her, scuttled about to see the King tearing the webbing away from the hole. As it gradually widened, he pushed through, rested with half of his body in the room, the other half still in the other, and reached for her.

Red stiffened, the seven eyes she possessed overlapping the image to show quite a few different legs coming towards her. When the leg finally touched her, she flinched away, wanting to hiss 'stop', but her throat wouldn't work.

Gently picking her up, the King turned her upside down, stroked her stomach, and explained, "I'm going to teach you how to be a proper spider. First off, I'll teach you how to spin a web? How's that?"

Red snapped at his legs, tired of being held. Right now, she just wanted to curl up in the corner and _die_, not learn how to spin a web! How could she live like this, as a spider? Did it mean she had to eat flies like the little spiders that she sometimes found at her house? She would rather starve!

"Ah, come now..." The King clicked gently before setting her down, pulling the rest of himself through, "It's no reason to bite me... If you're tired, we can sleep before I teach you..."

Red turned her back to him, plopped down in the corner, and fumed. What a horrible thing, to be a pet to this monster!


	59. Winning For Peter

"Thirty minutes passed."

The Wolf glanced up from Peter, whom he had been cleaning of blood gently, and saw the mirror leaning against a nearby tree, a mischievous smirk on his lips. With a sigh, the Wolf stood, cradling Peter in his arms, "Fine… You've made your monster?"

The mirror nodded, eyes falling from the Wolf's face to the memory eater's corpse behind him, "I had some problems deciding _what_. At first, I was thinking making another spider, since you seemed to have trouble with that, or fusing a Hansel and a spider together to make a… odd creature, I can admit. Then, I thought that I might have gone a little overboard with tying your son up and putting the spider up there in the first place, where he had the definite advantage…" Taking a raspy breath, the mirror vanished. The Wolf heard a small crack of a twig being broken behind him, turned to see the mirror bending down next to the memory eater's cold body, "And, of course, this happened. Not sure why he wanted to help, but he did, and look where it got him: lying on the ground, dead with holes in his back." Sighing, the mirror stood.

The Wolf heard a small crackle behind him, turned to see the snowy scenery melting away.

The next moment, they stood on the small, sandy island, water calming around them. Glancing back at the mirror's physical form with a question in his eyes, noticing the empty frame behind him, the Wolf asked, "So who's my next opponent?"

"A question I will answer, but let me say this first." The mirror sighed, vanished, leaving fat droplets of water to patter against the sand, and then reappeared inside his frame, interlinking his fingers as he leaned back into a cozy chair, "There's the matter of you."

"What about me?"

"If you should die, what should I do? Should I eat you? Bury you? Burn you to ashes and then let the water spread you across this world? Should I send you back through the mirror?"

The Wolf glared at him, "I'm not going to die."

"How can you be sure?" fretted the mirror, picking at his white hair, "And understand that I am extending a courtesy. You have amused me substantially, and I want to be sure that I do not just treat your body like all the other idiots and fools that come in here. There should be a special thing for you…" He sighed loudly.

The Wolf bared his teeth, "Well, you don't have to worry. I'll beat your next monster, and then you'll cure Peter!" He faltered when he remembered the memory eater. Glancing down at the corpse, he bit his lip, whispered, "You should do something special for him… I could never do that for a friend... Definitely for my son, but never for a friend…"

The mirror nodded absently, not really paying attention, "Well then, if you are so sure you will _not_ die, I guess there is no use asking."

"Nope, there isn't." growled the Wolf.

"Well then… Confidence builds ignorance." The mirror snorted.

"It also builds character." Retorted the Wolf, angry. The mirror was wasting time! Peter was dying here in his arms, and they were talking about _confidence_?

"Ignorance." Muttered the mirror before waving a hand, "Fine. You will fight." Slowly, the mirror faded, and the Wolf turned, waiting, as he held the bleeding Peter close. The mirror appeared on the water, tapping his long, clawing fingers against his side as he asked, "And I cannot stop that. So I will allow you this. Who will be your opponent?"

The Wolf stared at him before grinning softly, "Could I have Hansel again? He's easy to defeat, and bullets don't-"

"No." came a blunt reply.

The Wolf frowned before grunting, "…A small water monster?"

"No. They have taken a liking to you."

"... A small spider?"

The mirror rolled his eyes, exasperated, "I cannot let you go without battling three _tougher_ things. I'm made to be evil, yes, but I do want to help you, for you have amused me, _but_ I cannot go against my nature. Let's say you said a pit of snakes," He waved a hand, and the Wolf yelped as a pit opened right before him, a mass of venomous vipers wriggling at the bottom, "or a big snake," Another hand wave, and the pit vanished, only to be replaced by a gigantic snake, which reared back, its hood flaring, "or something in between," The huge snake split into two smaller ones, "and I would consider it absolutely. But I will not give you a spider." He snapped his fingers, and the snakes disappeared.

The Wolf bit his lip. He hated snakes! "…What about… two medium spiders that are not poisonous?"

"No. If it can be poisonous, it'll be poisonous. And spiders are _venomous_, not-"

The Wolf's stomach rumbled. Glancing down, he pursed his lips before a sudden idea tapped at his mind. Hesitantly, he cut the mirror off and asked, "What about you? Can I fight you?" The mirror didn't look that formidable, and he would probably not summon monsters if they were fighting one-on-one.

For a few moments, the mirror stared at him, as if his mind has suddenly shut off and had left in a surprised pose. However, he regained his composure, began to laugh uproariously, "Ah, do not kid me! Me fight you? That'd be entirely unfair! You'd be signing a death sentence! No, no, no… Choose something else." He straightened, clutching his stomach, and brushed a hand under a black eye, whispering cheerfully to himself, "Fight me? Ah, what hilarity!"

Growing bold, the Wolf taunted, "You're scared, aren't you?"

Instantly, the mirror had vanished. As the Wolf glanced around, trying to see where it would pop up, his disembodied voice growled, "Scared? No. Rather, I am being fair," The Wolf heard the small sound of tumbling sand behind him, started to turn, but then began to choke as frail-looking but abnormally strong hands latched around his throat and began to dig its fingers dip into the flesh, "'cause this can happen."

Flailing, the Wolf struggled vainly to escape, but the mirror steadily forced him to his knees, his fingers threatening to snap the Wolf's neck.

Just as dark blurs were forming on the edge of the Wolf's vision, the mirror released him, glanced at his fingers, and then pulled some gray strands of fur off of the fingers, "See? I'd rather not."

Gasping, clutching his bruising neck, the Wolf rasped hoarsely, "I meant without the disappearing and reappearing thing."

"And, let me guess… No monsters?" The mirror smirked.

"Yes."

"Are you sure?" By the way his voice raised to high pitch, the mirror was definitely excited. The black pits that were his eyes sparked, and a dot of molten yellow began to burn in the center of the darkness.

"…Yes… Just no monsters or reappearing like that… And so… how should I know when to stop, so I don't kill you?"

The mirror cracked his neck, smiled maliciously, "Make me bleed and that'll be enough for me. So let's have it this way." Crouching, he snapped his fingers.

The water rushed up, forming the woodlands that the Wolf was so familiar with. However, instead of a sunny day, it was a bright night, the moon that managed to poke through thick clouds full and pale.

The pitter-patter of soft rain began before the Wolf felt the water hit his coat, and he glanced up at the sky before the real torrent began. Shivering, the Wolf turned to glance at the mirror, but the man had already vanished, off to start from his own point. All that was left was the lump that was the memory eater, lying limply on the dirt.

Peter wormed in his arms, whining as the rain interrupted his pained sleep, the rain washing away the droplets of blood that still ran from his nose, mouth, eyes, and ears, before wrenching awake. With a hoarse, agonized squeak, he struggled weakly against the arms that held him, coughing up clotted blood before, in a voice so low that it was almost lost in the sound of the falling rain, "Papa…"

Hurriedly, the Wolf ran to a close tree, took refuge under the leaves, and crouched down, glancing around to make sure that there was no mirror in sight before gently stroking Peter's lolling head, "Shh… Shh… It's okay, Peter… We're going to make you better, okay? It's okay…" He kissed Peter's streaming nose.

Peter clutched at his father's fur, wiping bloody tears against his father's chest as he sobbed.

The Wolf turned eyes upwards, stiffened when he saw a dark shadow coming forward through the rain. The small yellow spark that burned inside the mirror's black eyes brightened as he gazed at the Wolf and Peter, "Touching. Now, leave him there and come fight."

"…Did you have to make it rain?" complained the Wolf, setting Peter down gently so that he sat against the tree. Peter wept uncontrollably, clutching at him wildly as he tried to stay in his father's arms.

"I like it." The mirror extended a tongue, caught a few raindrops on the tip, and then chuckled, "Also, since water is the only medium I can use to make my reflections solid, I think it is safe to say that I need a lot of it to fight against you." He started forward, cracking his knuckles as a pointed, wicked smile crossed his face.

The Wolf gulped, whispered to Peter, "I'll be right back. Don't worry, Peter. Just stay here, okay?"

"Papa! Papa! Don't leave me! It hurts!" Peter whimpered, a small hand clutching at his stomach as blood dripped down from his mouth in long strings. "It hurts, Papa!"

Gulping, the Wolf jerked his hand from Peter's, turned, and strode forward to meet the mirror man.

"Papa!" shrieked Peter, bloody tears streaming down his face before he flopped over onto his stomach, began dragging himself pitifully after his father's footsteps.

The Wolf stopped, amazed, and allowed Peter to drag himself up to his legs before latching onto one, sobbing hysterically into the wet fur.

The mirror coughed, impatient, "Wolf?"

The Wolf bent, picked up Peter, and took him back over to the tree. Sitting him down, he whispered, "I'm going to get you some help, Peter. You have to stay here, or you might get hurt. Please, just stay here."

Peter clutched at his hand, his little fingers trembling weakly against the Wolf's large palm. In a whispery voice, he sniveled, "P-promise to come back?"

"Yes, Peter." The Wolf brushed away a large drop of blood that was trailing out of Peter's nose.

"…" With a small sob, Peter released his father's hand, fell to his side, and curled up into a little ball, his bloody eyes watering with agony and want. "Please come back…"

With an impatient snarl, the mirror stomped a foot, "Wolf!"

The Wolf stroked Peter's ear one last time before standing, turning, and walking slowly back towards the mirror.

"Shall we fight?"

"…Sure…" replied the Wolf, disheartened.

Suddenly, he was laying on his back, nose smarting. Shaking his hand out, the mirror muttered sullenly, "You didn't even _move_." He glanced at the small spatter of blood that now covered his knuckles before licking it off.

The Wolf sat up, stared at the mirror, and then staggered up, the feeling of rage blossoming inside of him. With an angry growl, he lunged for the mirror.

The mirror quickly skipped out of the way, let the Wolf lurch pass, and, within a moment, grabbed the Wolf's shoulders, kicked the animal's legs out from underneath him, and watched him fall to the ground with a smirk, "Hello there. Did you not see me?"

The Wolf kicked out at him, hissed when the mirror jumped away, laughing loudly. Stumbling up, he growled, "Stop moving and fight back!"

The mirror chuckled, "Of course! I have speed, you have brawns, and… I pretty much have enough brains to know that to charge you would be rather defeating the purpose of avoiding bleeding."

"If that's all I got to do, then this shouldn't even last another five minutes!" The Wolf charged him furiously.

The mirror once against avoided the attack, seeming to merely pop out of the way at the last moment. Once again, the Wolf found himself tripping, falling to the ground.

"Are you sure you don't want another opponent?"

"No!" Enraged at his miserable failure, the Wolf leapt up, bristling. It wasn't that the mirror was _hard_ to beat, but he was just too fast for him to even touch!

The mirror sighed, "Oh well." Bending down, he scooped up a stick, stalked forward.

The Wolf eyed the stick warily, knowing it would definitely hurt if it connected in a fight.

With a sudden increase of speed, the mirror bounded closer, stabbed forward with the stick, and, when the Wolf hastily batted it away from his stomach, dove forward, through the Wolf's open legs. Grabbing them, he viciously pulled them out from beneath the Wolf, and, with a yelp, the animal fell face-first into the mud.

Standing, dusting himself off, the mirror grunted, "I am not so amused anymore. Please consider taking on another of my creatures. You cannot touch me; you've tried and failed. Please reconsider."

The Wolf willed himself to rise, stumbled around to face him, and wiped some blood and mud from his nose, "If you'd just stay still for long enough, coward, I would tear you piece from piece!"

The mirror sighed, "I guess I will have to show you how useless it is to fight me." He began to stroll forward, as calmly and slowly as if he was taking a walk through an orchard.

The Wolf bristled, baring his yellowed teeth, waited till he was closer, and then leapt for him with an angry snarl. As before, the mirror twisted to the side, but the Wolf was ready. Leaping to the side as the mirror kicked out toward his legs, he swung a paw out wildly.

The mirror ducked with a coarse laugh, shot up underneath his arm, and brought his skull cracking against the Wolf's nose.

The Wolf yelped, immediately crouched, cowering as he caressed his bleeding nose, cursing silently to himself. Why did he have to be so quick? It was impossible to touch him, but he felt obligated to!

Rubbing his forehead, the mirror smiled softly, "Ready to give up now?"

"No, of course n-" The Wolf bit off his sentence when he saw the little form shivering on the ground. Suddenly guilty, he watched Peter pull himself another foot before he rested, the little wolf's eyes dark with mud and blood and tears.

The mirror didn't notice. Face splitting into an angry grimace, he snapped irritably, "Just give in! You cannot beat me!" He kicked mud at the Wolf.

The Wolf hissed, bounded up, and dove for the man, but, once again, the mirror stepped aside. Instead of turning to try and swat the man, the Wolf did the same as the man grabbed at him, leaping off to the side.

Smirking through a growl, the mirror whispered, "Mmm… Good. You're actually _trying_ to avoid my attacks now."

Furiously, the Wolf grunted, "Well, you seem to be the one who's landing the most hits."

"Correct. Now… Let's play." Without a warning, the mirror rushed towards the Wolf, teeth bared as the pinpricks of burning yellow in his black eyes flared to a crimson red.

The Wolf lunged forward to greet him, claws outstretched, only to find his paw being grabbed, the mirror's back pushing up against his stomach as the man braced himself, and then a violent crack as the man pulled the arm viciously down against his own bony shoulder. Yelping, the Wolf swiped his other hand at the mirror's head, only to find himself being flung to the side like a rag-doll. Landing in the mud, he curled up, clutching his broken arm as he glared at the mirror, who laughed gleefully, the molten red pupils in the black emptiness of his eyes flaring out uncontrollably as he struggled to retain some sort of composure.

Battling his lust to pounce upon the Wolf, the mirror hissed, "Choose another. I do not want… to fight you anymore." The last part was obviously a lie; he wanted to fight, he wanted to _win_, but he had to be fair. If the Wolf did not take his offer, he would be free to do what he wanted.

Baring his yellowed teeth, the Wolf sat up, flinched as his arm twanged in pain, and then growled, "Are you going to keep asking that? I said 'no'! And who are you kidding? No human your size could have that strength!"

"Who said I was ever restricted? I certainly didn't." the mirror snapped, struggling, twitching, hands fidgeting as he gazed at the Wolf hungrily. "Now get up."

Warily, the Wolf stood, eyeing the mirror who was wanting to fight and maim. "I thought that because you were in that… Fie, never mind!" Forcing himself to release his arm, he took a small step forward.

Instantly, the mirror ran forward, sharp teeth bared in a desperate snarl. Leaping for the Wolf, he plowed straight into his stomach, the arm that the Wolf had reflexively put up doing nothing to stop him. With a yelp, the Wolf fell backward, trying to grab the mirror's hair, but found his fingers clutching empty air. He fell upon his back. Immediately, the mirror sat on his chest, his feet pressing roughly down onto the Wolf's arms, his fingers itching at the Wolf's neck as he battled the feelings to snap his neck then and there. However, when the Wolf began to wiggle underneath him, he snarled, buried his fingers into the fur, and tore a handful out.

The Wolf squeaked in agony, wriggled vainly as the mirror leered, "I gave you a chance. You should have taken it."

"Get off! Get off!" The Wolf snapped his jaws, trying to bite a hand, and then began to choke as the mirror started to press his fingers harshly into the soft flesh of his neck.

Keeping the struggling Wolf down easily, the mirror chuckled darkly, "Well, I guess now is the time that I must you ask that question again… How would you like your body to be disposed of?" He leaned in close, eyes burning brightly, little trails of steam rising from where rain drops had dropped into the fire, and eased the grip he had on the Wolf's throat.

The Wolf's legs kicked uselessly behind the mirror's back, the hand on his unbroken arm clutching at the air. "L-Let…" He coughed on the last part of the sentence, stopped kicking, stiffening as he felt a small paw find his foot. Peter had finally dragged himself to his father.

Oblivious to the small, blonde wolf behind him, the mirror snarled, "How?" His fingers dug back down into the Wolf's throat.

The Wolf choked, managed to gasp, "P-Peter…"

"Oh, how cute. You want to die with your son. Now, tell me," The mirror leaned forward, sharp teeth bared as long strings of saliva hung between them, "how do you want _both_ your bodies taken care of? I can bury you, burn his. Something dignified in being burned, I think…" He clicked his teeth, "Or, if you're really nice, you can give _me_ your bodies." By the way he grinned and let a trickle of drool join the raindrops on his chin, he was just imagining how delightful it would be to have their bodies.

The Wolf felt Peter's small paw crawl up to his knee and then his thigh, then followed by the pressure of a little body taking a pained rest. He just needed a bit more time…

Ears laying flat on his skull, he snarled, "A mirror that eats people he said he wanted to help! How hypocritical!"

Enraged, the mirror released the Wolf's neck, grabbed his jaws, forced them open, and grabbed his tongue. Pulling at it, he hissed, "Should I eat this before I snap your neck?" He dragged it towards him, causing uncomfortable pain to worm its way into the Wolf's mouth. The Wolf tried closing his mouth, tried to reclaim his tongue, but the mirror's hand was enough to keep it open. Gagging as raindrops thudded down into his throat, he rasped, "Don't you dare…" He felt Peter pull himself weakly onto his stomach.

The mirror licked his lips, whispered, "Then tell me, or I'll eat both your son's body and you."

With a hack, the Wolf spat a wad of spit into the mirror's face.

Furious, the mirror started to close his hands around the Wolf's neck once more, and then froze, face paling in astonishment. Slowly, he twisted to stare down at Peter, who had his little teeth locked into the mirror's side as he growled weakly in his throat, struggling to breathe through the blood and water that clogged his nose. The mirror gazed at the little wolf for several seconds, the flames in his eyes dying out sluggishly before he grunted, reached down, grabbed the loose fur on the back of Peter's neck, and pulled him up easily. Ignoring the bleeding wound on his side, he regarded Peter, whose breathing was now ragged and shallow, with a grimace on his face.

The Wolf grated, "You're bleeding."

"…So I am." The mirror dropped Peter onto the Wolf's face, poked at the wound as he stood stiffly.

Struggling up, flinching as his broken arm pulsed with pain, the Wolf hurriedly adjusted Peter so he lay in his good arm, being cradled against the calming warmth that emanated from his father's belly. He glared up at the mirror, who seemed to be awed by his bleeding bite wound, and hissed, "Make Peter better."

The mirror nodded absently, staring down at the little ring of bleeding teeth marks on his side. Finally, he ripped his eyes away, waved a hand, and then vanished as the scenery splattered into water, raining down into the lake as the rain quickly stopped.

The Wolf kissed Peter's head, relieved. Peter was finally going to get his cure… He wouldn't die… The pain in his arm died down as the sense of satisfied victory washed over him. He had won a battle for Peter's life… Maybe he wasn't such a failure as a father after all…

The mirror reappeared, his side once again clean. Holding out his hands, he demanded softly, "You won. I will hold my end up of the deal. Give me the boy."

Slowly, the Wolf transferred Peter to the mirror's arms. With a gentle moan, the mirror curled his arms up, trapping the ailing pup to his chest, and then whispered, "You are a very unlucky, little boy Peter… I do not envy you." Turning, he stepped out onto the water, the surface solidifying under his feet, strolled to the center of the lake. He cast one last glance at the Wolf before snapping his fingers, smiling softly as the frame of his mirror appeared, stepped into it, and vanished.

The Wolf stared as the frame disappeared before sighing, shoulders slumping, and stroking his broken arm, trying to calm the pulsing hurt that raced through it. He had broken several bones before, but it was nothing to pay to give Peter a chance at life. What really pained him was his stomach. Letting the stroking hand drift down to his belly, the Wolf sighed, caressed the scar that ran down the length of his front, and wished for a rabbit to calm his ailing tummy.

The mirror appeared, eyes bright, "Hungry?"

All energy gone, now exhausted, the Wolf waved a hand slowly, "No… Go make Peter better. He's the one who needs your help."

The mirror grinned broadly, eyes sparking with a white dot, "Well, I can do both at the same time." Snapping his fingers, he motioned to a small spout of water that wrenched up at his side, turning into a…

The Wolf couldn't help but salivate. A rabbit… A regular rabbit…

The mirror vanished, leaving a rabbit to hop furiously across the water, scurrying up onto the sandy shore, and then pausing, eyes wide, whiskers shuffling, to stare at the Wolf. Groaning, the Wolf laid down in the sand, curled up. He knew it was just water; would it still taste the same? He felt the rabbit's nose brush against his fur before it hopped up onto his side, thumped a foot against him. Glaring up at the rabbit, the Wolf bared his teeth, snapped at it. The rabbit's nose twitched before it leapt onto the ground beside his head, pushed its head against his nose.

The mirror's voice sighed, "Why won't you just eat it? That's what I made it for…"

The Wolf grunted, "Just let me sleep… Wake me up when you finish making Peter better…"

"…I'll leave the rabbit then, just in case you decide you want to eat it. And, while you're there…" The mirror's voice faded away.

The Wolf closed his eyes, sighed wearily, and then flinched when he felt something touch his foot. Glancing down, he stared when he saw the water at his feet twisting into uncolored versions of Marquis and Jhonen. With soft croons, they pushed up next to him, whining for an embrace. Slowly, the Wolf relaxed, allowed the mirror's watery imitations of his sons cuddle up next to him, and closed his eyes.

"Does that help?" whispered the mirror.

"…Mmm… Yes…" The Wolf nodded sleepily. "I guess you know how much I love my sons…"

"Very. Well… sleep well. I'll wake you when I have finished with Peter… It is going to be a long time just getting the venom from him, but I'll do it."

The Wolf didn't answer, for he had fallen asleep, eased into his dreams by the dull warmth that the fake sons emanated.


	60. The Return

Unbeknownst to the Wolf, four days had passed since they had first entered the cave, for the mirror had slowed down time in his small domain to prolong the fun the Wolf had provided him with.

Back at the castle, the King had been obsessing over Red, whom the guards secretly called 'the King's royal distraction'. They weren't sure whether or not their master held feelings for the girl-turned-spider, but they began to post more guards in the throne room, hoping that it would deter any 'unlawful' thoughts the King might have.

Red was still having trouble with speaking, but was able to talk as long as she got a great many breaths in between. She had also managed to figure out how to use her legs so she wouldn't trip every other step and how to 'produce' spider silk.

It was early morning, still dark outside, still chilly and windy. The draft somehow managed to reach the throne room, rise, and enter the King's personal quarters.

The King stood in the corner, regarding his small pets, the little tarantulas he had used his mirrors to steal from the real world. Feeling the draft on his back, he shivered, hurriedly herded his pets back towards their baskets, shut them into it, and then crawled slowly towards the hole to Red's little room. The first day, he had widened the entrance considerably, but he wasn't so sure he wanted to enter at the moment, for Red had been experimenting with webs, which she was still having a hard time grasping the concept of patterns and circular webs. He didn't want to mess up her precious progress.

The room was crisscrossed with threads, tangled up to the point of being hopelessly knotted. Sighing, the King poked at a leg through a gap in the threads, pushed at the balls of cloth on the bottom, and asked, "Girl?"

He heard a hum to his left, poked his front through just a bit, and glanced to the leftmost upper corner, where Red hung from a back leg, dozing. Sighing, the King reached up, tugged her off of the offending thread, and muttered, "Tangled yourself up again, huh?"

Red grumbled in her sleep, stomach aching. She hadn't eaten since she had been turned to a spiderling, and the hunger was slowly shutting her down, making her fall asleep in the most inopportune of places.

Slowly, the King placed her back on the white strings, watched her adjust so she could stay on the threads, and then gently poked the corner of the tangled web.

Instantly, Red jerked awake, turned with an irritated click, and rushed for his leg, snapping her little fangs together furiously. The King retracted his leg just in time to avoid being bitten, smiled. If she would only do that when he put birds in there… He had tried the day before, releasing a small sparrow into the room, and had watched it get stuck in the threads, struggle, wake his little spiderling, and then had grown annoyed when she had clipped it loose and had released it into large cavern he called his throne room.

A guard had caught it and eaten it within a matter of minutes, but it still had been intended for his little spiderling.

Grumbling, Red dropped to the ground, buried herself in the cloth within seconds, and tried to fall back into her dreams. However, a hairy leg dug beneath her, lifted her back up.

"Mmrph… Let me sleep…"

As she struggled against his hold weakly, the King pulled her from the room, scrambled over to his room, reached in, and withdrew a small woven bundle: a rabbit who had been killed, wrapped, and brought up specially for her. Setting her down but keeping her there with a leg, he slowly pushed the cocoon towards Red, his brown leg moving it forward from underneath Red's line of vision.

The instant it touched her forelegs, Red snapped down, thinking it was the King's leg. Instead, her little, curved fangs sliced into the spider silk wrapping the cocoon.

Immediately, the King pushed her down, almost laying upon her as he kept her head down, the coarse hair on his body bristling with happiness. In a gruff voice, he ordered, "Eat through the silk and eat what's inside."

Red's legs failed as she tried to pull her head up. What a horrid trick! She wasn't going to eat anything that he gave her! He might as well try to stuff it down her throat, because she was not going to eat it willingly!

"Eat it!" He rapped her smartly over the head.

With a little squeak, Red wriggled, trying to escape, but the King steadily pressed down on her, forcing her to either chew or choke. After quite a few minutes of biting reflexively whenever the web pushed up into her mouth, threatening to choke her, she gagged when she felt her teeth break through the silk layer and bury into something soft underneath.

Feeling her stiffen, the King pushed down once more, whispered, "Eat."

Red refused.

"Eat!" The King dug a leg into her side, clicking his fangs together as he grunted, "You need to eat! Either you eat now or you eat whatever I give you tonight!"

Red managed to gasp, "Tonight! Not now!" If she could just avoid this, she might be able to hide away that night and avoid eating.

"…Mm… Then…" The King crawled off of her, grabbed the cocoon from her, and, dragging it to his room, pushed it through the hole. Battling his way through the hole after it, he seized it in his fangs, settled down, and began to masticate it happily.

A bit dazed, Red crawled back to her room, trailing a small, thin thread behind her. Tumbling in, she crept to the corner, curled up and shuddered violently. She hated being like this! It was horrible, especially with the King hovering over her like some overprotective parent!

She heard a noise at the entrance to her room, turned so that her eight eyes pointed at the hole, and saw the King there, chewing at a fast-disappearing cocoon. With a growl, he asked, "Aren't you hungry?"

Red glowered at him, hissed, "Yes, but I won't eat your disgusting food!"

The King's fanged mandibles rubbed alongside the cocoon, digestive acid dripping from his mouth as he spat it up onto his prey. Dropping the remaining half, he squeezed into the small room, ripping down most of the webs in the process, and then dragged the food in. With a small, happy noise, he began to eat again. "It's not disgusting. It's very good. You'll learn to like it."

"No…" moaned Red, legs curling underneath her.

She squeaked loudly as the King curled a forearm around her, pulled her up to his abdomen, and stroked her happily with his middle legs as he pushed his prey deeper into his mouth, grunting.

Sullenly, Red laid out on the coarse fur, wormed herself into a comfortable position, and began to slide off into drowsy dreams. What a horrible place... It was better to take refuge in her dreams.

"Hey… Don't fall asleep just yet…" The King poked at her before pausing, reaching over her to take some soft silk from his spinnerets, quickly pull it into a square, and weaving it quickly into a small, make-shift blanket. Laying it over Red, he clicked his fangs before raising a foreleg, pushing the last of the hare and cocoon into his mouth, and then moaning gently as his abdomen vibrated upon receiving the food.

Red groaned, "Just be quiet… I want to sleep… I'm tired…"

"Tired, tired, tired…" The King stroked her softly before raising a foreleg to his mouth, rumbling as he brushed some stray strands of meat and thread from his mandibles. "That's why you need to eat, girl."

"No… I'm not going to…"

The King bent forward, clicked his fangs quietly above her head, and then whispered, "Then you're welcome to sleep…" He caressed one of her legs.

Grumbling, Red curled up, shrugged the blanket over her to hide herself from the dim light and the King's legs.

* * *

"Wake up…" 

Groaning, the Wolf curled away from the cold touch of the mirror. A sigh sounded, and he flinched, whimpering in his sleep, as a cold touch stroked his broken arm. After a few seconds, the frosty feeling numbed his arm before the pain ebbed away completely.

"Wake up…"

The Wolf hiccupped in his sleep before hugging the fake Marquis tightly to his chest. "No… Jhonen… Let me sleep…"

The mirror grimaced, glanced around, and then saw the rabbit, brushing at its whiskers as it stared at him. Reaching for it, he crooked his fingers, smiled as it scrambled over, and then grabbed it up. He crawled up besides the Wolf, waved the fake sons away, and, with gentle hands, opened the Wolf's mouth, and gently gestured to the rabbit.

The rabbit sniffed at the Wolf's mouth before poking its head in.

The Wolf's eyelids flickered open before he eagerly snapped his jaws shut. Within a moment, he had swallowed down the rabbit, pleasing his starving stomach, and he sat up with a happy smile on his face , "Mmm…" He blinked when he saw the mirror before asking eagerly, "Where's Peter?"

"Ah…" The mirror smiled, "He's back at my home in the mirror. It'd be best if he was warm for the next few hours. I came to ask if you wanted to come? Perhaps share a good meal?"

The Wolf blinked, nodded, "And Peter? He's okay now?"

"Yes." The mirror reached forward, fingered the Wolf's ear, and then tugged at it. "Come on… I have a person at De Lille. They just tipped him in, and I'm stuck here as long as you're in my cavern." He bared sharp teeth, salivating.

Eyeing him warily, the Wolf asked, "…You're not going… to eat him, are you?"

"Oh, just come on." Whined the mirror, standing. Raising his hands, he traced a square in the air. Water sprouted from his hands, retraced the square, and the mirror suddenly vanished, leaving a floating square of water in the air, glimmering like a mirror, undulating like the water that made it. A watery form of the mirror's hands sprouted the center, beckoning with a tapered finger, and the disembodied voice hissed, "Come in, come in. I promise I won't _bite_..."

Hesitating, the Wolf stepped forward, dipped a claw into the surface, and shivered as an icy feeling coursed up his arm. "You promise…?" He glanced behind him, flinching as he saw the memory eater's corpse lying there on the beach still. He suddenly felt very guilty for forgetting all about him…

"Of course I promise… Now please come…" The hand withdrew slowly, ripples pulsing out from around it.

Bracing himself, the Wolf raised a hand to pinch his nose, took a deep breath, and stepped forward into the portal.

Instantly, he stood in a large room, sweltering hot in contrast to the harsh, icy feeling that had attacked him upon entering the mirror. Glancing down, he stared when he saw long, white slivers of ice stuck to his fur, now melting quickly in the heat.

The mirror's choked cry of delight caught his attention, and he glanced up, seeing the room for the first time. It was a rather cold-looking room, the walls some sort of bluish crystal, little diamonds of lapis lazuli and sapphires jutting out from it, and the floor covered with dirt and black, obsidian-like tile. The fireplace on the far end, a roaring fire crackling miserably on its black logs. The hearth was covered with a thick carpet and several pillows, showing the place where the mirror slept. The Wolf was overjoyed to see Peter, no longer bleeding, laying on the carpet, sleeping peacefully. His happiness soaring upwards, he started forward.

A cold hand clapped down onto the Wolf's shoulder, causing him to squeak, glance back, and stiffen when he saw the mirror's eyes burning a bright red. "Leave him be. He needs rest." Releasing the Wolf's shoulder, he pulled back, turned, and stalked over to a mirror hanging from the wall to the right.

Blinking, the Wolf followed, "Is that your mirror at De Lille?"

"Yes." The man leaned forward against the mirror, grinned maliciously as he peered out at the darkness that the Wolf remembered had so blinded him when he had fallen into the pit.

The Wolf stared over his shoulder, "Is there a person in there?"

"Yes."

"…When are you going to turn on the lights?"

"Turn on the-" The mirror turned, glared at the Wolf, and growled irritably, "Look. I just was beaten by a big, furry_ dog_ and a small, puppy _brat_. Don't you think I should have my own way now?" He blushed a livid red, whirled back to the mirror, and scraped his fingernails across it.

The mirror's surface brightened, and the Wolf saw a dripping man jerk about, eyes wide and startled. He blinked, stared up towards them, as if he could see them. Clapping his hands in excitement, the mirror snapped a finger, forming a stick of chalk in the air, and then put both of his hands to the frame of the mirror that allowed him to see into the nightmare room of De Lille.

Softly, the Wolf grunted, "I am not a dog… And Peter's not a brat."

"To me you- Yes , yes…" The mirror leaned forward, eyes hungry as he watched the man stumble up and come nearer, curious, "Come closer… Just a bit more… I need to see your memories…"

The man took another step, and the mirror's back suddenly arched as his eyes turned a bright yellow. A low moan wormed out of his throat, as if he were in pain.

The Wolf stared at him before asking curiously, "Are you… okay?"

"Ah…" The mirror clipped his mouth shut, making a click as his teeth collided with each other, "What an array… I think…" Taking the chalk, he grinned manically while he etched a word onto the glass: 'Noxius'.

The Wolf couldn't help but chuckle when he saw the man's face split into a surprised scowl, "Is that how we reacted?"

The mirror turned to glare at him, "It is not funny. Now shut up, 'cause I have to figure out which memory I'm going to duplicate."

"…But why do you do that, can I ask?"

"It's… _fun_." The mirror nibbled at his finger before wiping the chalk away from the surface of the glass and laughing grimly, "But, since I have guests, I think I'll just have myself a snack right now, skip the hard work." With a small hiss, he reached forward, his hands vanishing into the glass.

The water behind the man stirred before slowly and silently trickling upwards.

"Are you making that water monster thing again…?"

"It eats, I eat."

"…And… I have a question…"

"Yes?"

"There was a man floating in the water when me and Hansel and Red fell in… Were you not-"

"I had prey from my cavern. I watched him drown while I ate."

"…" The Wolf glowered at him before grumbling, "I find myself disliking you more and more…"

The man turned, hearing a few splashes behind him. Instantly, he jumped back as the water creature reared, snapping its ugly, translucent jaws at him, dripping muddy saliva and algae. The man backed up against the glass, blocking the view, and the mirror began to drool, fingers itching at the surface. "Oh… Come on, dearie… Kill it for me… Kill it…"

The Wolf snorted in disgust, turned, and strolled over to the fireplace. Kneeling down, he drew the blanket back, stroked his little son's shoulder happily, and then slipped under the covers with a sigh. At his touch, Peter shivered with delight before curling up next to the Wolf's chest, desperate for more warmth in the already stifling heat.

He heard a choking sound from behind, turned to see the mirror with his arms pushed through the glass up to his elbows. Apparently, from the way he struggled to keep a grip on something on the other side, he was trying to keep a good grip on the man as he choked him.

"You slippery-" Enraged, the mirror withdrew his hands, which were distorted and clear, showing that it was only water beneath the mirror's exterior.

"Got away, did he?" smirked the Wolf.

"No, he's not!" With a furious growl, the mirror dove through the mirror, legs scrambling as he pulled himself through.

The Wolf stared before sighing, shaking his head, and curling up around Peter, feeling his son's chest rise and fall against his stomach as he breathed.

* * *

The Wolf had fallen asleep by the time the mirror sluggishly pulled himself back through the mirror, having finished a very good meal of the criminal's flesh. His face was a bright red, the water that made him stained a red as he digested. Even his slicked back white hair had started to turn a light pink. Grunting in a satisfied manner, he crept forward, sat on the edge of the blanket. After a few moments, he chuckled. Reaching forward, he rested his hands on the Wolf's head before his eyes rolled back, sparking a yellow as he began to test the Wolf's memories. After a few seconds, muttering quietly, withdrawing his hands, the mirror licked his fingers before standing, rushing over to his mirror, dragging it down from the wall, hurrying to the other side of the room, hanging it up on a small, black iron hook, and then grinning as a new image floated up. 

Leaning forward, he smiled, whispered, "My, my…"

* * *

The King was fast asleep, resting against the wall as his legs gently twitched against the small blanket that covered the little spiderling resting upon his furry abdomen. Under the blanket, Red dozed slowly on. 

In the main room, nestled and concealed up in the webbing of the ceiling, was a small mirror, about a foot by a foot. It was the King's mirror, the corresponding piece to his mirror-band, hidden away to protect it.

The surface, covered with dust and webbing, glinted before a slow trickle of water began to seep through. It wormed its way through the thick layer of webs before splattering down to the floor of the room. Slowly creeping its way over the white threads, it found the hole, it rolled into the room, stilled when it came into view of the giant spider and the small spiderling resting on its abdomen. After a few minutes, the puddle stretched upwards, sharp, thin, long legs twisting out of the water before it scuttled forward, crawling up the King's side before grabbing the blanket, lifting the corner.

Red mumbled in her sleep, twisted a leg to mask her eyes from the sudden brightness.

The King grunted, brushed a foreleg across his stomach. The little creature scampered atop the blanket to avoid the leg that jerked to where it had been, the gray claws on the end scratching idly at the black-brown hair. The mirror insect waited until the leg stilled before scurrying off of the blanket, leaping down to the ground, and grabbing a few silk threads, which it absorbed quickly before crawling quickly back to the spot on the floor where it had first dropped.

More water leaked from the mirror, dripping down to the mirror insect, which began to grow and twist as it gained new liquid. Within seconds, it had grown to the size of Red, adding two more legs to make itself a translucent spider.

Scampering back to the room where the King and Red slept, the mirror spider paused at the doorway before raising its forelegs, thumping them gently against the ground. When it received no response, it clicked its constantly melting and reforming fangs, climbed up the King's side again, and clambered up to pause right under the black fangs of the King. Again, it thumped its legs against the King's chest softly.

The King clicked his fangs before rustling a leg up to caress his fangs. The mirror spider quickly scurried past to perch onto the King's head. Snuggling down into a comfortable position, it waited.

The memories hit it like a brick. Legs jerking uncontrollably, it writhed atop the coarse hair before reigning in its movement, forcing itself to stay still except for the occasional twitch. It inflated slowly, turning a gentle yellow.

After several minutes of absorbing memories, the mirror spider dislodged itself from its perch, dropped down to the floor before scrambling back up to the blanket, teasing it away, and setting one of its legs against her head. Its reaction to the onslaught of memories was much less this time, but it hastily pulled away after a few seconds. Clicking its annoyance, it turned and hastily made its way back to the main room.

* * *

Chuckling softly, the mirror drew back from the wall. The King had a many good memories about the girl-turned-spiderling, the girl whom the Wolf liked so very much, and it didn't seem as if he would be releasing her any time soon. Creeping back over to the fireplace, the mirror flicked at the Wolf's ears, whispered, "Hey… Wake up…" He cast a fond glance at Peter, his little patient, before rubbing at the Wolf's nose, "I said wake up…" 

The Wolf snorted in his sleep, turned, and, taking Peter into his arms, squeezed him to his chest like a teddy bear.

"Come on… Wake up…"

The Wolf slumbered on.

A sudden wave of anger crawling through him, the mirror sharpened the tips of the fingers of one hand, placed them to the Wolf's head, and then clawed the sharp fingers into the Wolf's fur.

The Wolf yelped awake, sitting straight up as he registered the horrid pain in his skull. Instantly clapping both hands to the five bleeding cuts on his scalp, he whimpered, "Why'd you do that? I thought you said we could sleep…"

"You've seemed to have forgotten that, one, you need to return to your own world, and, two, that you still have a little girl to rescue, judging from your memories."

The Wolf rubbed his head sullenly as he glowered at her, "You have no need to remind me about that. I still have no idea of how I would have gotten out of that cursed room without Irit and Pooka's help. I can't even _imagine_ somehow being able to waltz in and just save her."

"Mm… So you'll leave her to rot within the King's palace? Wither away while being mated to every spider in there?"

The Wolf's eyes grew wide, "What?"

"Oh! You're surprised, are you?" The mirror smirked, pointed teeth bared. "Well, I went to the King while you were sleeping and tested his memories. He likes your little friend, and he'll probably be thinking about mating within a few days, perhaps tomorrow." He was lying, of course, but he wanted to see the Wolf squirm. The King was chaste in his thoughts, regarding the girl as a councilor, an advisor, and certainly not as a potential mate. At most, his liking for the girl was like the love a boy had for a best friend who would keep him out of trouble.

"He wouldn't!" With a hiss of fury, the Wolf stumbled up, stormed towards the mirror hanging on the wall with an angry look on his face.

"Oho! Where are you going?" The mirror followed him, chuckling.

"I'm not going to let that freak mate with Red! She's my friend! I can't leave her to be a slave to that disgusting thing!"

The mirror smirked, "He's _your_ reflection."

"Well, are you just going to stand there?" The Wolf stopped, glared at him. "Aren't you going to help?"

"I would be glad to… But, see, what you don't understand is that I have no way to fight that far away from my mirror. I can only make myself a certain size there."

Pursing his lips, the Wolf sniffed, "Good _excuse_."

"Not an excuse. It's a fact."

"Then how could you reach De Lille?"

"If you didn't notice, I never went out of the mirror. When I did to have my dinner, I had to bind myself to my water creation to keep any type of form." The mirror grumbled angrily before turning, cracking his knuckles, and strutting over to his carpet and pillows, sitting down, and stroking Peter's stomach softly.

"What are you… doing?"

"Well, as soon as the little blondie here wakes up, you can have your little happy time of saying 'Oh, I love you, Peter' and 'I love you, papa' and 'I'm so happy that you're okay'… And then I can put you back out into my cavern and you can swim out and go rescue your little friend or escape back to the real world… Or, if you just want to kill the King, you can let me kill you." The mirror chuckled, bent, and blew gently on Peter's nose.

Peter sneezed instantly before grumbling, "Papa…"

The Wolf hurried over, knelt, pushed the mirror out of the way, and then pulled Peter up into his arms, "Peter… Peter, it's papa. Are you okay?"

Peter's eyes flickered open, eyes edged with sleep boogers and dried scabs. He cringed, reached up, wiped at the uncomfortably pieces of crusty material, and then sniffled, "Where's Marie?"

The Wolf sighed. Again with the 'where is Marie'?

The mirror leaned in, whispered, "She's somewhere else, but you have to show your papa that I made you better so he knows our deal is done. Come on, little wolf…"

"Mmm…" Peter shivered gently before pulling his hands away from his eyes, the yucky crusts gone, "But what kind of deal are you-" He froze, body rigid in the Wolf's arms.

"Peter?" asked the Wolf worriedly.

Peter's pupils dilated in their blue irises before he shivered, whispered, "Papa?" Reaching up, he fingered the Wolf's nose before reaching up, touching his eyes, and flinching at his own touch.

The Wolf stared before putting a hand forward, watching Peter's eyes immediately latch onto it. Inside, he could feel his heart beat speed up as the feeling of ecstatic delight built up. Turning wide eyes to the mirror, he asked, "You… You..."

"You said to heal him. I did."

"But… blindness isn't a sickness. It's… irreversible…" The Wolf argued weakly, staring at his son in disbelief.

"His was a symptom of his sickness." The mirror explained.

"What… sickness?"

Peter came over his shock, smiled happily, grabbed his father's ears, and began to squeak, "Papa! Papa! I can see! I can see!"

Ignoring the puppy's chatter, the mirror whispered, "If he had been older, it could have been a lot worse. But, apparently, you fed him some infected food, or someone did."

"Infected with what?"

"…What does your world call it?" The mirror leaned back, tapping his chin. "The… _fever_?"

The Wolf stiffened, horrified, and rasped, "The fever? I made sure I avoided _everything _that even had a symptom of that! And it was hard to get food, 'cause it was so widespread! Are you saying I brought home something infected and that's what made… Peter sick?" He glanced guiltily at his son, who hadn't been paying the least attention, too enthralled and excited that he now was able to see.

"All it would have took was a small rabbit, a mouse…"

"I never ate anything until I was sure it was healthy!"

The mirror clicked his tongue, "Yes, but that month of bed rest would have been enough. Your mate? She would have hunted, no?"

"How do you know about..." The Wolf stared at the mirror before nodding slowly, "Yes, but… She fed Peter infected things?"

"Probably ate some herself."

"Then… Why… Why isn't he dead?"

"'Cause she stopped feeding him bad things…. But there was enough time for it to find its way to his brain and attack his sight and mobility centers."

The Wolf stared at the mirror before groaning, "Oh, please don't start talking like a doctor… Doctor talk gives me such a headache."

"Oh… Then I'll put it into simple words. First of all, the sickness was weak because, frankly, the acid in his stomach got rid of most of it. But the parts that did accumulate made their way to his brain, where they began to rot it down, yada, yada, and I won't go any further than to say it was probably doing the same to your wife, just in… different areas."

"…What?" the Wolf inquired.

"I'm saying that your wife's judgment regarding Peter was probably destroyed because of the fever."

The Wolf stared before slowly turning eyes to Peter, who was struggling to escape his arms. He withdrew his hands, watched Peter crawl to the edge of the hearth, carefully slide his legs to dangle over the edge, and then struggle to push himself up. Hurriedly, he grabbed Peter's arms to steady him and watched with wide eyes as he staggered to his feet, a large smile splitting his face. Like a small baby taking his first steps, he giggled, cheered, "Papa! Papa! Look! Look!"

"Peter…." The Wolf smiled, slowly let go, and watched Peter sway back and forth before stumbling forward, "Are you going to be okay walking on your own?"

To answer his question, Peter paused, bent down, massaged his numb thighs, and then quickly scurried forward, a small, blonde bolt of fur that wanted to stretch the legs that had been so useless for the past year and a half.

The Wolf grinned gently before glancing at the mirror and whispering, "Thank you… How could I ever repay-"

"You amused me. That's all I needed for payment. Besides, you still have to make his muscles strong. They've rotted down pretty good." The mirror leaned back, stroked his stomach, and then began to laugh loudly.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing… I just had an idea. Very hilarious actually."

The Wolf stared at him before asking, "What? What's the idea?"

"Well, I was thinking about what you said, about how you are not going to be able to rescue your girl… If you really want to…" Suddenly smiling, the mirror itched at his cheek, as if he were mulling over his so-said idea.

"Want to do what?"

"Drag my mirror all the way there… I could help… Have fun in the process…"

The Wolf blinked before asking softly, "Drag your… Wait… To the _castle_?" His eyes furrowed as a wave of suspicion waved up into him.

The mirror nodded, grunted, "It would take me hours to do it on my own, and, besides, I need to retain my water. If you took me though, I wouldn't waste my water, and I could help. Perhaps two big spiders? Maybe even three? Depends on how much I took from De Lille. Plus, there's all the water in the lower levels..." He clicked his tongue thoughtfully.

"And… Why do you want to help, may I ask?"

"Oooh… Suspicious now, aren't we? Let's just say it'll be fun."

"…I think not… Fun for you usually means several dead bodies, doesn't it?"

"Ah… Don't be like that. Let me come…" The mirror clasped his hands together, put up a sharp smile which he hoped would convince the Wolf. Unfortunately, the sight of abnormally sharp, jagged teeth with little pieces of flesh stuck in between them did little to improve his situation with the Wolf.

The Wolf shook his head, "No. Sorry, but I can't."

"... Then you can _go_." The mirror grunted, eyes narrowing angrily. "If you're not going to _help_ me, then you can _leave_."

The Wolf blinked in surprise before nodding hurriedly, "I'm fine with that."

"But first…" The mirror licked his lips before standing, hurrying over to the mirror hanging from the wall, and, grabbing it, scrambled back over to the fireplace, and shoved it into the fire. Instantly, the room grew chilly as the fire turned to steam with a hiss. Shaking with excitement, the mirror snarled, dove into the steam, and vanished.

The Wolf leaned forward, poked his head into the steam, "Where are you?"

The mirror hummed happily, his disembodied voice coming from the vapor, "I'm _making_ something. Could you throw some of the dirt on the ground in here, please? Maybe a little bit of straw or wood if you want?"

"What for?"

"Just give me."

Sighing, the Wolf bent, grabbed up some dirt and some twigs, and threw it into the steam. It instantly disintegrated.

"What are you going to do that with dirt and sticks?"

"You will see. Now… I have a good amount of blood to transfer, some stick and mud for bone and blood, and water for general make-up… Ho hum…" A thin thread of water condensed from the steam, twisted, and then poked at the Wolf's nose, "You'll take him with you, won't you?"

"Who?" asked the Wolf, curious and confused.

"Oh yes…" The mirror reappeared, holding a mound of black mud to his chest like molten gold. Scurrying past him, he knelt next to Peter, clicked his tongue to catch the little wolf's attention.

Peter jerked to stare at him, eyes wide, before happily giggling, reaching forward to brush his paws against the mirror's cheeks.

The mirror smiled, reached forward with a muddy hand, and brushed sharp fingers across Peter's ear, the sticky brown dirt on his hands collecting loose blonde hairs. Drawing back, he hurriedly plopped the fur-covered mud into the bigger glob before turning, holding it out to the Wolf. "Here you go."

"…" The Wolf stared at it before latching a wary eye on the mirror and stating slowly, "It's… _mud_."

"Ah no!" Suddenly furious, the mirror stomped a food, the mud slipping out from between his hands. "You cannot say that after you killed him! Take it! Take it! Or I will have to throw it into the fire and watch it bake and crack!" Storming up to the Wolf, he thrust the lump into the Wolf's arm.

The Wolf recoiled before feeling it harden against him. Staring down at it as the mud solidified, he hesitantly brushed away some of the runny mud that covered the solid inside.

A little black muzzle exposed itself before a small wail started, a choking, little sound.

The Wolf turned horrified eyes to the mirror, who smirked, "You seemed sad when he died. I just remade him for you… But as a little one. Do you want him?"

The memory eater writhed in the Wolf's arms, the rest of the mud slipping away from it. Its fine, black fur shiny and slick with water, it suddenly quieted down, began to suck at a lock of fur on the Wolf's chest.

"…But… but…" The Wolf stammered weakly, not knowing to accept or not. It was the memory eater, who had died to save him and Peter, just as a... a baby... How could he refuse? But how could he accept? They were in the middle of a world where carnivores would be more than willing to strike him and his son down and devour them. It was no place to have a crying baby!

"Well?"

The Wolf felt a little tug at his leg, glanced down to see Peter staring up with big eyes, "Papa? Can I hold the baby?"

Words deserting him, the Wolf knelt, handed the baby to Peter, who squeaked in happiness as the memory eater's little sniffles died off to a sulky silence, and then turned back to the mirror, whispered furiously, "You know that I cannot!"

"Why not?" said the mirror, seeming genuinely surprised.

"It cries! What will that do to us? It will bring spiders and tigers and things down on our tails to eat us!"

"That's why you need to feed it. Pebbles and leaves will be fine."

"But a baby? In this horrid place? You're just asking for it to die!"

At the Wolf's feet, Peter sat, began to poke the little memory eater which lay on his lap with a happy giggle, "Hello!"

The memory eater stared at him with black eyes before bubbling joyously, grabbing Peter's hands, and sucking at the tip of his finger eagerly, in desperate search for milk.

The mirror bit his lip, "Or mud. But milk would be-"

"You didn't hear me! It'll die out there!" The Wolf pointed angrily at the wall.

"That's not outside!"

"Ah! You're impossible! _Outside_! The mere coldness could kill it! Don't you even care whether it survives or not?"

"I know it will because you're so dedicated in protecting your sons."

"It's not my son!"

"But it's your friend." Goaded the mirror.

The Wolf froze, turned to stare down at the giggling Peter, who was hugging the roly-poly puppy to him like a teddy bear, and then sighed. The fine picture of Jhonen and Marquis fighting over the right to hold him when dear Peter was little wormed into his mind, and it filled his heart with yearning. Another son… "Fine… I'll take it… But Peter comes first."

"Of course." Crooned the mirror, eyeing the Wolf slyly. "And if you should be captured by the spiders again, they'll most certainly eat him… Or enslave him, whatever the interest… To prevent that," Whirling on his heel, reached into the still steaming fire, drew out a small coal, and tossed it from hand to hand before popping it into his mouth. Swallowing, he sat down on his carpet, met the Wolf's gaze, and explained, "I'll give you what I just swallowed."

"But you just swallowed it..." Argued the Wolf weakly, lost and confused.

"That's because it's inside where _my_ magic lies." The mirror clapped a hand against his chest before coughing up a small diamond, spitting it into his hand, and holding it up to peer at it. Inside, the Wolf could see a dull, fire-like glow. The mirror nodded in satisfaction, turned, and held it out the diamond. "Wear this." One of his fingers dripped over it, forming a small, silver chain.

The Wolf reached out, took it, and then dropped it, yelping, "My Lord, it's burning hot!"

"It is?" The mirror cast a lazy glance at it.

Peter saw the glittery thing, reached for it.

"Peter! Don't touch that! It's-" The Wolf watched helplessly as his son picked up the shiny jewel, held it up happily.

"Papa? Can I keep it?"

The Wolf nodded hastily so he could whirl to the mirror and ask quietly, "So, how should we go about rescuing… Red?"

Smirking, the mirror stood back up, "That's where the diamond comes in."

* * *

Red woke up with a little, tired click, rustling under the blanket that held her 'hostage' until she finally untangled her legs from it. Pausing to readjust herself to her surroundings, she slowly crawled forward and off the King's abdomen. The King gave no response, grumbling in his deep sleep. His rearmost legs were stroking his spinnerets, inadvertently weaving the threads that came out into complex and memorized patterns. 

Scuttling from the room, Red headed for the opening. For once, it was the King asleep and not her! She could escape, or try to at least! Now that she could climb up and down walls, it might be possible… Reaching the small tunnel, she slowed her pace before stopping altogether when she turned the corner.

A spider guard, still wearing his mirror-band, rested in mouth of the tunnel, glaring down at another guard at the bottom of the room. Flinching, Red crouched low to the ground, restraining the urge to click her fangs in annoyance.

"Think we'll get rations tonight?" came a call from below.

"Hope so." Grunted the guard seated in the entrance of the tunnel.

Creeping forward, Red clawed at the webbing beneath her forelegs, trying to work up her courage to rush at the guard, push him out of the entrance, scramble down the wall, somehow pass the guard below, and escape from this horrid room. After a few seconds of hesitation, she leapt forward. The guard turned just a second too late. Thrusting her two front legs against his side, catching him when he was imbalanced from the turn, Red watched as he fell back, arms windmilling, to land into a web below. She heard a coarse shout, began to hastily scramble down the wall, keeping as many of her eyes on the guard rushing up towards her and his comrade, who was stuck in the thread. The guard charged up towards her, teeth bared, but when he made a grab for her, she leapt to the side, onto a thin strand of web, and scurried to the opposite wall.

Hissing, the guard started to follow her, but was distracted when his comrade screamed at him.

"Stoffers! Help me!"

Glancing in between the little red and white spider and his brother-in-arms, the guard hesitated before turning back to help his friend.

Below, Red hurriedly dropped to the ground, tugged at the door with all her might, clicked happily when the heavy oaken slabs opened, and hurried through to disappear into the halls.

* * *

The sun was burning up the sky, its hot rays melting the snow and caressing the trees with its warm rays. The soft whistle of wary birds accompanied the snow's fleeing, for they urged it away with hungry tweets, wanting the worms and insects that hid underneath the cold powder. A small sparrow landed on the ground, glanced around cautiously, and then attacked a small piece of lake-weed crawling with beetles. Instantly, it heard the tell-tale sound of flapping wings, and, grabbing up its prize, waddled away as its brethren descended, chirping angrily, wanting a treat. 

Within seconds, there was a mass of little, feathered bodies, all vying towards the center of the crowd, hungry for a black beetle.

"Irit?"

The sparrows froze, each brown head cocking up and twisting to stare at the water as the Wolf dragged himself from the water, carrying the baby memory eater in his arms. Behind him, Peter rode on the back of a smaller water creature, bouncing up and down as he turned his head this way and that, trying to get in as much color and sights he could in a short time.

"Irit?" The Wolf called, setting down the memory eater before shaking his coat out vigorously. "We're back… Irit?"

Peter scrambled onto the shore, trying to pull the small water creature out behind him. His blonde fur was dry except for his legs, and the bright diamond hung around his neck. "Papa! You're fuzzy!"

Sniffing grimly, the Wolf began to pat down his fuzzed-out fur, "So I am… But where is that _man_?" He turned angry eyes about, called loudly, "Irit!"

On the ground, the memory eater bubbled happily, having grabbed up a brown leaf. Nibbling at it with little milk teeth as the Wolf turned curious eyes to him, he returned the gaze with innocent black eyes. The Wolf sighed, bent, scooped up the baby, and began to bounce it, "Peter, let the poor thing go back to the water."

Releasing the sullen water creature's paw, watching it slide and vanish beneath the water, Peter ran over, reached up, and asked, "Can I be on your back?"

The Wolf smiled softly and nodded, "Of course…" Bending, he offered his back to his son, who leapt upon it, latched his arms around his neck, and then latched his legs around his stomach.

"Piggy-back ride!"

The Wolf groaned. What he wouldn't give for a pig right now… He was _starving_. "Peter?"

"Yes?" Peter rubbed his black nose against his father's soft gray fur lovingly.

"Are you hungry?"

Instantly, the sparrows' eyes turned back to their little feast of beetles before they chirped furiously at each other, resumed their fight.

"Not really, Papa."

The memory eater's eyes grew wide as he saw the flurry of feathers before he dropped his leaf, reached out, and wailed longingly. Instantly, the Wolf flicked his nose, "No crying."

The memory eater's eyes filled with hungry tears.

"Ah… no… Don't cry…" The Wolf cringed, trying to look at the watery eyes that melted his heart. Why did little puppies have to be so cute? It was nearly impossible for him to say 'no'!

Digging his thin legs into his father's side to gain some leverage, Peter reached over the Wolf's shoulder, tickled at the memory eater's nose. Instantly, the memory eater grabbed his finger, began to suck at the tip, whimpering. Peter squeaked indignantly, but the Wolf hurriedly whispered, "Peter, is it okay if you just keep it quiet? Please? Just for a little bit?"

Peter nodded, staring down at his 'little brother'.

The Wolf sighed in relief, started forward, and then paused to watch the frightened sparrows alight, chirping the alarm.

* * *

**OOC: Just curious... Who is everybody's favorite / least character?**


	61. The New Cook

"What did you mean 'she got away'?"

Groveling in front of his king, the guard whimpered, "She escaped."

"Argh! How? Did you fall asleep? Did you," A black-brown leg hit out at the guard, "watch her crawl away? Or were you just preoccupied with trying to eat her?"

"Sir, she pushed Custer into the web!" The guard flinched as the King raised his leg again, intent on striking the guard again. "I had to get him out!"

"So? You should have gotten her first!" Furious, the King turned, stalked towards the door that led to the halls of the castle. "Now I have to go and find her before one of you guards decides he wants a meal or a mate!"

A look of horror crossed the guard's face, "We would never do that! Never to an original! Well, maybe eat, but certainly not _mate_."

"But I bet the cooks and the servants don't know that, do they?" said the King angrily, clicking his fangs furiously.

The guard paused before biting his lip and nodding. A female spider scrambling madly around the halls of the castle would certainly gather unneeded attention, and some of the people who did not know that she was an original in a mirror-band might see her as a potential mate. He knew that he would certainly be aroused if he saw a little female spider like that scurry past his quarters. There would be no threat of being eaten…

"Yes… But, sire-"

"No buts! Find her! Gather your group, split up, and find her! I'll be down in the lower halls. That's where my original and his blasted son went!" The King angrily lunged for him.

The guard dove to the side, hurried up and around, casting a wary eye at his furious master. "Yes, sir!"

* * *

"Bah! Stop getting into the cookies, you bliddy glutton!" 

"Ah… Come on…" The guard withdrew his hand from the clay pot that held the crumbly and sweet cinnamon biscuits he wanted, "Denver never made sweet things. We're lucky to have a new cook like you. And you're furry and you don't have a fondness of poisoning those who steal the food."

"Like you?" challenged the goat, clicking her hooves against the stone floor in annoyance, tapping her thigh with the wooden spoon.

"I'm not stealing… The King's late on rations."

"So you come to annoy me, huh?" The goat reached up, adjusted her wimple and round glasses, brushed down her white fur, before sniffing, "That's why I came here, to escape the predators. This place used to be livable." The goat shook her head before clapping her hands to her face. "And my seven little boys running about like wild men because of you!"

"Yes, but they are untouchable." Pointed out at the guard, reaching back into the cookie jar. "Got to be thankful about that at least, missus cook."

"And they grew up with your horrid influence!" The goat reached out, rapped his hand sternly with her wooden spoon.

"Ay! I just want a cookie!"

"They're biscuits." Grunted the goat coldly, crossing her arms, "Cinnamon biscuits."

"Cookies." Challenged the guard, smiling.

"Out!" The goat kicked at him angrily, her wimple slumping to the side. "Out! Out! Out!"

The guard chuckled excitedly, scurried from the room, leaving the goat to regain her scattered nerves and mutter under her breath as she turned back to her pan of sizzling zucchini. She wasn't supposed to feed the soldiers, but only the captains and the King, if they should need it. During her free time, she could do what she wanted as long as she was 'on call', but it didn't really matter. The guards and their captains always brought in their own prey, and, now that he was feeling better, the King ate freshly caught food from the outside. She wasn't supposed to bake cinnamon biscuits for the guards! And the zucchini? That was for her and only her!

Sighing, the goat dragged up a chair, sat down, and, taking a needle from her pocket, picked up her circle of cloth and resumed the embroidering that had been so rudely interrupted by the hungry guard.

For a full ten minutes, she stitched red thread onto the white cloth before freezing, hearing the clash of breaking clay. Sighing, she stood, set down her sewing, and stormed towards the backroom, "I said 'no food'!"

No answer.

Grumbling loudly, the goat stomped into the back room, saw the shards of clay lying on the ground, green sprigs of thyme and basil among the pieces. With an angry sound of disappointment, she kneeled to start her retrieval of the precious herbs.

A little hesitant click attracted her attention, and she turned spectacled eyes to the partially open cupboard, where she saw Red, who was staring back at the goat with all seven whitish-gray eyes as her fangs pulled the soft middle out of a loaf of bread.

"Ah… A child spider?" The goat gazed at her apprehensively before asking, "Who are you, if I may ask?"

"…Red."

"Ah, because of your colors…" The goat reached forward, took a little glass measuring cup from besides Red, and shook some dust from it, "Well, are you hungry…?"

"Yes!" Red dropped her bread, which she had been finding hard to eat, and clicked her fangs excitedly, her heart leaping in happiness. The mere mention of food excited her!

The goat baaed in annoyance at her, her floppy white ears trembling, her orange eyes narrowing, "What do you want? A bird? A rat?"

Red's heart fell, as did her voice, "…Do you have some applesauce?"

"Hmm?" Eyes widening just a bit, the goat watched Red before asking quietly, "Applesauce? What are you? A vegetarian spider?"

"… I wasn't always a spider…" Red dragged herself out, the tips of her legs clicking against the hard floor, "And I don't like bloody meat."

"…Well, I have zucchini, and I could probably find some oranges, if you want softer things, as most spiders do."

"Would you?"

The goat nodded, stood, and placed her handful of thyme and basil on the counter. Turning, she motioned with her hand, "Come on. It's in the front room."

* * *

The goat was horrified on how much this little spider that had hidden in her cupboard gorged herself on whatever scraps she could find. First went the soft, pulpy fruits: the oranges, grapefruits, and even the little bits of pineapple and pomegranate disappearing into the peppermint colored intruder. Then went the soft cinnamon biscuits, devoured within the space of five minutes. 

Finally, when the spider had seemed to eaten every non-meat item in _her_ kitchen, it fell asleep! On her floor!

Kneeling, the irritated goat poked at the bloated, little spider with the tip of her wooden spoon, "Hey…Wake up… You can't stay here… You have to go back to your mama or papa or whoever you're here with…"

Red dozed on, utterly satisfied by the feeling of a full stomach.

"Missus Cook!"

The goat hurriedly stood, stepped in front of the little spider as the guard who had been stealing her cinnamon biscuits before scrambled back in, wide-eyed with anxiety. "Yes?"

"Ah! Missus cook! You haven't happened to see a red and white spider anywhere, have you?"

"Of course not. All I've seen is you black and brown monstrosities. Why do you ask?"

"Ah! She's the King's little pet and- Ah! You ran out of biscuits!" His face fell even further as he grabbed the clay pot, glanced in to only see crumbs and red cinnamon.

"Someone came before you."

"And you let him eat it?" wailed the guard before turning, fleeing back into the hall.

The goat stared after him before turning, gazing at Red for a bit, and then bending, poking her furiously, "Hey! Wake up!"

Red finally stirred, moaning softly before whispering, "Please… Let me sleep…"

"They're looking for you. You have to hide first, then you can sleep."

Red groaned, curled up into a little ball.

Grumbling, the goat grabbed her by the legs, dragged her to a nearby cupboard, and stuffed her in. Somehow, Red stayed asleep, and the goat closed the door of the cupboard on her before taking a piece of warm zucchini and munching on it sullenly. What a hungry, little spider… And it was a pet to the King? Did he ever feed it? Apparently not, judging from the thing's voracious hunger.

She started for her chair before feeling something soft underfoot. Bleating her annoyance, the goat bent, scooped up her embroidery, and glared at the black shoe mark on it. She had stepped on it! Her rose was ruined!

* * *

"Papa… I'm tired…" moaned Peter, slinking behind the Wolf, a pinecone in each of his hands. "Can you carry me?" Underneath him, his legs trembled weakly, the muscles underneath the fur unused to being able to run and jump and stand.The Wolf sighed, "Peter… We can take a break, but… I have to hold the baby, okay?" 

Peter stared up at him before sitting down on the ground and snuffling, "You don't love me anymore…"

Groaning, the Wolf turned back, sat down next to his son, and whispered, "That's not true…"

"But… I want to be carried…" sniffled Peter, "My legs hurt and my tummy hurts and my heart hurts… Why can't you carry us both…?"

The Wolf pushed the memory eater into the crook of his arm before letting his left hand reach out, grab Peter's shoulder, and tug him close. Hugging him, he mumbled, "'Cause babies need lots of support. If I drop the baby, then it can die; if I drop you, what happens?"

When Peter didn't answer, miserable, the Wolf asked again, and the little, blonde wolf answered, "I get bruises."

"Exactly. So I have to make sure that the baby gets all the support it needs."

"…Okay…" For a few moments, Peter was silent. Finally, he cast a sly glance at the Wolf's lap and asked, "Can I sit in your lap?"

"Of course."

Scrambling into the space between the Wolf's crossed legs, Peter curled up against his father, little fingers curling up into the gray fur, before whispering, "I love you, Papa… Please don't ever go away…"

The Wolf grinned, bent to kiss Peter's twitching ears, "I won't."

The memory eater sneezed before turning his little head to the side, seeing Peter's head, and growing entranced. Reaching out, he made little pitiful grabs in the directions of his ears before whining loudly.

The Wolf smiled softly, leaned back, and put the baby in between him and Peter. As Peter inspected the burbling infant with somewhat jealous eyes, he tilted his head back and stared up at the blue sky, happy as the warm touch of the sun caressed him.

"Papa?"

The Wolf turned his milky eyes back to Peter, who had the memory eater hugged to him like a toy, "Yes?"

"Will you pet me?"

"Pet you?"

"I'm itchy."

The Wolf chuckled, reached forward, ran his claws gently through Peter's fur. Shivering with delight, Peter leaned forward, wanting the caresses.

Stuck in Peter's arms, the baby memory eater stared solemnly at nothing in particular, a low whine pulling out of his throat.

"Peter, you have to be careful."

Blinking, Peter leaned back, settled down, and readjusted his hold on the baby, so he wouldn't accidentally drop it. Brushing some black fur away from the memory eater's eyes, he squeaked, "Peek-a-boo!"

The memory eater stared up at him before bursting into tears

"Papa!"

Sighing, the Wolf took the shivering baby from Peter, began to gently pat its back, "Oh…. Come now…. Peter did not scare you that badly, did he?"

When the memory eater continued his little wail, Peter slumped, ears laying back in shame, "I didn't mean to, papa…"

"It's okay, Peter. It happens."

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but, before he could say something, he froze, eyes widening as he gazed over the Wolf's shoulder. "Papa…"

"Yes, Peter?" asked the Wolf in a tired voice, feeling a little burp as the memory eater regurgitated a pebble it had eaten a few minutes after they had started walking. Grabbing it off of his shoulder, he flicked it away before wiping some spit from the memory eater's face.

"There's an apple tree!" Leaping out of the Wolf's lap, Peter rushed towards it, squeaking happily.

"Peter!" The Wolf stood, turned to follow. "Come back here! Peter!"

Reaching the small apple tree, Peter reached up, grabbed an 'apple', turned it over with a curious squeak, cracked it open, and then bit into it happily. He turned, waved the hand with the apple, "Papa! There's red oranges! Do you want some?"

The Wolf stalked up to him, shivering with anxiety, "Peter! You can't just run off, okay? There's bad things here… And those aren't apples!" He snatched Peter's 'apple' away, glared at the inside.

"But they're yummy…" Peter chewed at a seed before spitting it out and grinning, his pearly teeth stained a pink.

"Hmm…" The Wolf glanced the fruit over before recognizing it as a pomegranate. Shrugging, he took a small bite, "Never mind. You can eat these. And they're not red oranges. They're called pomegranates."

Peter jumped up, knocked another down, fell upon it, and, tearing it open, began to wolf it down with hungry noises.

The Wolf stared before taking one of the blood-red seeds and pushing it up to the memory eater's mouth. The black eyes peering out from the dark fur instantly glittered, and the baby let him push it into his mouth. Eagerly, he began to chew at it with its blunt milk teeth.

Peter withdrew his nose from the center of a pomegranate, glanced up at his father while he wiped at the red staining his snout, and asked, "Papa?"

"Yes, Peter?"

"Where's Marie?"

The Wolf sighed, "She's…" He struggled. How could he tell Peter the truth without sending his son into a tantrum of worry?

"Is Marie in trouble?" Peter's head cocked to the side as he asked the horrid question innocently.

The Wolf nodded miserably, and Peter's ear laid back against his skull before he brightened and asked, "We're going to rescue her, right?"

"…I… I honestly don't know, Pet- Ow!" The Wolf jumped before glaring down the memory eater, who had nipped his finger impatiently. Seeing the Wolf's attention was on him, the child began to wail loudly, twisting in the Wolf's arms as it sought to escape.

"Shh!" The Wolf hurriedly sat him on the ground, trying to silence the baby. "Look! Look! It's papa! Are you hungry? Peter?"

Peter picked up a pomegranate, handed it over to the Wolf, who in turn dug a few red seeds from the inside, held it up to the memory eater's mouth. "See? Food? I'll give you some if you stop crying."

The memory eater's warbling cries faded before he reached for the pomegranate, ignoring the seeds. The Wolf sighed in relief as the baby took the fruit and licked some juice from the skin; however, he squeaked in surprise as the baby threw it angrily away, starting his wails again.

"Argh! What do you want?" The Wolf turned, reaching for the fruit.

It was then when he saw the scorpion, a disgusting, yellowish, monstrous thing that had been creeping up slowly towards them. Its low body brushed against the ground, the sharp legs on its sides digging into the moist dirt as the two forelegs, tipped with bulky but strong claws, slowly closed around empty air. The Wolf could see the bulbous tail arching above, quivering with anticipation.

The scorpion paused, shivering.

Slowly, the Wolf back, whispered, "Peter… Get on my back."

Peter stared at the monster before stammering, "P-p-papa…"

"Get on my back!" snarled the Wolf as he pulled the memory eater into his arms. The little black eyes glared up at him, as if to accuse 'I told you so, but you didn't understand'. Peter crawled over, climbed onto his father's back, and then clutched him tightly as the Wolf stood cautiously.

The scorpion stiffened, seeing the dull flash of movement, and then took another few steps forward, tail lowering slightly as he tried to pinpoint his prey.

The Wolf backed away, ducked under a branch, and placed the pomegranate tree between him and the stalking predator. Half-turning, he hurried his steps. The scorpion saw the murmur of movement, instantly skittered forward, clicking its claws and fangs angrily, its tail waving to and fro.

The Wolf turned fully, began to sprint in the opposite direction, Peter clutching at his neck and sides in an attempt to stay on, the memory eater burbling angrily in his arms as he was jostled up and down.

Furious, the scorpion stopped, tail quivering with rage. Snapping its claws after him angrily, it settled down onto the ground, wondering if more prey would come by if it just waited.

When he saw the scorpion was not chasing him anymore, the Wolf paused, turned, and stared at the monster.

Peter shivered as he peered at it, "It's scary, papa…"The memory eater sniffled in his arms, crooning in want of a caress. When the Wolf paid no attention to him, he squeaked a small wail.

Instantly, the scorpion lurched for them, incensed by the sound of weakness. Squawking in surprise, the Wolf turned, started to run again. Again, the scorpion stopped, clicking, only to be goaded again by another whimper.

"Be quiet!" snarled the Wolf, grabbing the memory eater's muzzle and holding it shut.

The scorpion stopped, glared at the faint outlines before clicking at them, slowly coming forward, crouched low against the ground.

The Wolf backed away slowly, but froze when the memory eater jerked its muzzle away before shrieking its little lungs out.

Hissing, the scorpion vaulted forward with a surprising burst of speed, snatched at the Wolf with its crushing claws, missed, and then swung its tail forward, desperate to immobilize its prey. The Wolf yelped as he leapt back, the tail slamming into the watery snow where he had just stood. An explosion of faint snowflakes flew up into the air.

The Wolf tripped over a root, fell onto his back. Squeaking, Peter struggled, but the Wolf hissed softly, "Stay still!"

The memory eater calmed, sucking at the Wolf's pinky finger as the few snowflakes fluttered back to the ground. Clicking angrily, the scorpion took a few hurried steps forwards, not seeing the still forms on the ground. The Wolf stared upwards at the hard, mottled yellow-brown carapace that hovered just inches above his nose.

The scorpion turned in place, glaring in all directions as he sought a sight of any fleeing prey.

The memory eater gazed in wonder at the sickly yellow 'sky' over them before reaching up, touching it. The scorpion didn't seem to register the touch. Only when the baby thrust the Wolf's finger away and gurgled in excitement did it stiffen, hissing in confusion. It heard the noise, but from where?

The Wolf grabbed the baby's muzzle, squeezed it shut tightly as the scorpion slowly stepped forward, turning back and forth as it tried to pinpoint where the sound had come from. Finally, it skittered off to the left, clicking angrily when it saw a bush move.

A flock of sparrows alighted, chirping the alarm, as their bush was attacked viciously be the scorpion. Pulling it up from the roots, the scorpion ripped at the leaves and branches, trying to see if any bigger thing had taken refuge inside.

The Wolf cautiously stood, helped Peter up, and, pushing Peter in front of him, began to tiptoe away.

The memory eater glared up at him, tried to scream through his hand, but the Wolf mouthed, "Good Lord! You're more trouble than Hansel!"

Little ears lying back on its head, the memory eater began to cry, tears trickling from its eyes as it pulled at the Wolf's hand, wanting him to release his sensitive nose. The Wolf's soul softened as he heard the choking sobs, eased his grip, before stopping when he heard the sound of tearing leaves and branches stop behind them.

Glancing back, he saw the scorpion with its back turned towards them, glaring at the remains of the bush as it tried to recover its squashed pride. Hurriedly, he dove past a thick tree, hurriedly took refuge behind it as the scorpion began to turn.

Pressing his back against the tree, the Wolf strained to hear as Peter cowered between his legs, shivering violently. The little clicks of the scorpion's legs snipped through the silence as it rounded the circle of disheveled snow where its prey had disappeared from.

Finally, silence came, and the Wolf sighed in relief.

Suddenly, the sharp tip of the scorpion's tail was buried into the tree over his head as a claw jammed against his stomach, smushing into his ribs right under his arms where the memory eater lay. Gasping at the sudden pain, the Wolf squirmed as the scorpion pulled the rest of himself around the tree, clicking its fangs happily. Jerking its tail from the bark, it lowered it to the Wolf's chest and gently scratched the tip across the skin, taunting its prey.

Peter squeaked, squeezed the Wolf's leg tight in a desperate hug as he began to cry, "P-p-papa! H-h-he's going to eat me!"

The scorpion stiffened, raised the claw so it could have a clear view of Peter. Instantly, it jutted its head close, clicking curiously, and tried to make out a solid figure as Peter scrunched down, sobbing hysterically as the monster 'came to eat him'.

Suddenly, the scorpion backed away, its tail twitching back as it clicked in a somewhat furious manner. Pausing once it was a good ten feet from the petrified Wolf, it reaching back, drew a small cloth band studded with mirrors from its leg, and hastily shoved it up around its fangs.

Instantly, a familiar brown-haired, tanned man stood before them, eyes furious, "You could have told me it was you guys!"

The Wolf stared at Irit for a couple of seconds before slumping down to the ground, his muscles, weak from fright, relaxing. "You… You were going to kill us…"

"Thank the heavens I didn't! Bloody eyes! Can't see a thing! I thought you were a few locusts who went out from the town! If I had known it was you-" Struggling with his self-hatred, Irit raised an arm to his mouth, bit at himself furiously, hoping the pain would calm his raging feelings.

Clutching to the Wolf's shoulder, Peter gazed at the man with wide eyes before asking quietly, "Papa, is he a good guy?"

"Yes, Peter." The Wolf cast a glare at the frustrated Irit, "Except he's _blind_." He said the last part loudly, so the scorpion could hear.

Irit whined, "What? I'm just like that! I'm sorry! I was just hungry, and I had no idea it was you guys! I thought you two were already dead… and who's the baby?" His eyebrows furrowed as he cast a curious glance at the baby memory eater.

"…The memory eater."

Irit blinked, came closer, knelt, and peered at it. As the Wolf held him up for the man to see, the little memory eater burbled with joy, his little paws wriggling in the air as he giggled.

A soft smile split Irit's face, "He knows me."

"I have no idea whether or not he does…" The Wolf stood, the baby in his arms, "But he's a handful."

"And an earful…" grumbled Irit, pushing a finger into his ear, "I heard it before I even saw you guys."

The Wolf glowered at him, "Exactly."

"…May I ask why he's… little?"

"The mirror killed him and remade him… out of _sticks_ and _mud_." The Wolf tapped the memory eater on the head, "So that proves you'll be the dirtiest little wolf on the planet when we get back home."

The memory eater whined, leaning back on the Wolf's arm to reach for the offending finger. The Wolf allowed him to grab it, watched as the memory eater brought it to his mouth to suck at it gently.

Hearing a fond sigh, the Wolf glanced up at Irit, who was shuddering with want. "Oh… It's hungry…" His voice was layered with longing.

The Wolf stared at him before wordlessly holding the baby out. Instantly, Irit took it from him, began to cradle it with loving croons.

"You seem happy…" grunted the Wolf.

"I've always liked babies when they weren't crying… When they're crying, though, I don't care what happens to them." Irit bent his head, kissed the tip of the baby's nose. Sniffling, the memory eater sneezed before twisting, nuzzling the man's chest, and, taking a fold of cloth into his little mouth, sucking at the shirt. Gazing down at him fondly, the scorpion whispered, "…I think I can help with his hunger…" He smiled, tickled the memory eater's little belly.

Giggling, the baby grabbed his finger, snapped down on it with little, milky teeth.

* * *

**OOC: Urgh... Finals... Sorry, but I won't be able to update soon... Studying is priority...**


	62. Water and Fire

Irit hurried the Wolf, Peter, and the baby memory eater back to his cave, a narrow tunnel that widened into a cold cavern, before leaving 'in search of milk', as he said it.

While they waited, the Wolf sat on a large natural stone shelf which, judging from the scraps of fur and cloth, apparently served as Irit's bed. At his feet, the memory eater crawled awkwardly about, finding small pebbles and swallowing them down eagerly in search of food, and Peter played with a scrap of fur, pulling it this way and that in an attempt to stretch it out. After a few minutes of waiting, the Wolf saw a small mouse waving from the corner, but it disappeared into a crack in the wall before he could tell whether or not it was Pooka.

Then, Irit came back.

Hearing the tell-tale clicks of a scorpion's legs from the cavern entrance, the Wolf called, "Irit? Would you happen to have a bucket of water or some-" He turned his head as he spoke, froze when he saw the scorpion skitter in excitedly, a smaller form sitting on his back.

As soon as Irit stopped, the small, brown and white-splotched doe leapt down from his back, cocked her head at the Wolf, and then daintily stepped over to him. The Wolf's eyes widened as she cooed, "I'm here to help, you gaper."

Shuffling up behind her, Irit clicked happily, "Wolf, this is Red's reflection."

The Wolf hurriedly stood and bowed, not knowing what to do, "I'm… the Wolf."

"I can see that." Said the doe curtly before bending her head and nosing the memory eater's back. Startled, the memory eater leaned back, trying to see what had jostled him, only to fall onto his back. Instantly, he reached up, took the doe's slim snout in his little hands, sat up, and hugged it happily.

Peter stared at the doe in wonder before bouncing up in excitement, "Papa! It's a deer!"

The Wolf nodded, watched the doe shake off the memory eater's arms, and then lay down beside him. When the memory eater just stared at her, she extended a thin leg, pulled him to her side. For a moment, he glanced about, confused, before the doe turned his little head towards her stomach.

Immediately, the little baby was guzzling down milk with happy sounds, and the Wolf turned away, a bit embarrassed.

"Is there something wrong?" came the sarcasm laced question.

"…Mmm… Where I come from, we're not supposed to watch… ladies feed their babies."

The deer sighed, put her head down on the floor, "He's not mine, so the rule doesn't apply. Mine died just a few weeks ago."

Startled, the Wolf glanced back, gulped, "What… what happened?"

"The natural order of things."

"… What?"

The doe glared at him, "He got eaten."

"Oh." The Wolf glanced away again, uncomfortable.

Clicking, Irit scrambled up onto his stone shelf, laid himself down upon the soft coverings, and then boasted, "I was the one that saved her." His voice carried the tone of pride.

"Without the intention of saving." Grumbled the doe, "He was stalking his prey, which just so happened to be stalking me and my baby. When that demmed tiger went for me, he decided he was hungry and killed it."

Irit's claws shivered in happy pride, "And saved her."

"With no intention of doing so." The doe added once more, locking a glare onto the scorpion. "And my baby still died."

"But I did save _you_, so-"

"This is your favor right here. I'm feeding your friend's little bug." The doe twisted to glance at the memory eater.

Happily, stomach round and quivering, the little baby fell against her side and burbled. Biting his lip, the Wolf hurried over, grabbed it up, and began to pat the little baby's back, knowing that it would need to be burped.

The doe stood, eyes narrowing, "I'm sure he's done. Irit, I'll be going now." She turned, flicked her tail up at the Wolf and the scorpion.

"Thank you." He managed to say, a bit unnerved with the bluntness the doe had shown. She had just come in, lay down, fed his little baby friend with the milk that would have been for her now-dead child, and was now leaving just like that?

Irit scrabbled after her, "Nancy… Please… Why won't you stay?"

Suddenly, the doe was tense and furious, her eyes brightening as she turned on the scorpion and hissed, "Don't you come any closer, scorpion! I'm not yours!"

"Nancy…" Irit crouched low to the ground, cowering before his littler love. Turning, the doe bounded towards the entrance tunnel in a moment. As the Wolf gaped, not believing how fast the deer was pelting away, Irit grunted angrily, turned, and slouched back onto his make-shift bed, "No hope now. Too fast for me."

The Wolf watched the doe give them one last glare before she turned and rocketed away. Blinking, he turned to glance at Irit, "Is she usually so… blunt?"

Irit sighed, "You should have seen her when she had just lost her child. Horrid rage. Nearly bit my tail off." Clicking, he turned on the shelf, reached for Peter with a claw. Peter squeaked as it closed gently around him, and Irit pulled him up onto the cloth scraps with a happy sigh, "But at least you have a wife. I'm so old and I'm not married yet. Haven't even thought about it, and I'm attracted to a _deer, _of all things."

The Wolf shrugged, deciding not to tell Irit about his wife, "Nothing wrong with that. I guess the usual rules don't apply in this wor-" He trailed off when he felt something trickle onto his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw the white spit-up from the baby, grimaced, and quickly brushed it off.

* * *

"Please come out from under the stove. I want to help you." Complained the goat, poking her wooden spoon under the black, iron stove.

Red bit at it angrily, clicking, "Stop poking me!"

"Come out!"

"No!" Red cowered back against the corner. She wanted to get away from the light. It had just been too bright for her eyes.

"Come on!" said the goat, exasperated and annoyed, "I know you have a mirror-band on! I got some information out of a guard, and I think I know how to take it off! Come on!" Throwing the wooden spoon away, she reached under, grabbed the end of Red's leg.

Reluctant to bite her 'guardian', Red let herself be dragged from the darkness, curling up in pain as the light hit her eyes. "Please… Please blow the light out… It's too bright…"

The goat snorted hoarsely, jabbed a finger under her fangs, and felt around before finding a small flap. Tugging at it, she asked, "Feel this?"

"...The light… Kill the light…" Red shivered, the brightness burning her eyes.

Rolling her eyes, the goat yanked roughly at the flap, and, suddenly, Red lay curled up on the ground as herself again, her unevenly cut brown hair splayed in all directions. Her pale skin was blotchy with dirt.

Slowly, with a pained grunt, Red sat up, holding her aching head in her hands. However, she gave a wild shriek of happiness before hugging herself, sobbing, "Oh, thank you! Thank you!"

The goat watched her intently before sniffing, "You're welcome. Now shut up, or you'll attract guards." Standing, she pulled the large rag down from the counter, threw it to the trembling girl, and taking her chair by the fire, grabbing up her knitting needles.

After a few seconds of scrubbing viciously at the dirt on her face, Red poked her head out from underneath the rag and whispered, "… Thank you."

"And I already said 'you're welcome'." Said the goat gruffly, the metal knitting needles in her hands glittering as they swung up and down with a constant rhythm.

Red bit her lip before asking, "Do you know the way out?"

Pausing, the goat put down her knitting and glared at her, "I can't leave the castle either without permission, so I couldn't show you even if I tried. Better to stay hidden and not attract unwanted attention."

"Then a mirror?""…Oh. I thought you meant out as 'outside'. You want a mirror, you got plenty of them, but you'll need a general mirror." Twisting around in her seat, the goat undid one of the needles from the square of yarn, leaned over, and hooked up a small chain on her cupboard. Carefully, she brought it over and turned to smile at Red, "And that's closely guarded."

Red gazed at her before suddenly bursting into tears, "So I can never leave? That's horrible! I'll die here! It's so horrible!"

"Shut up!" snarled the goat, bristling under her wimple. "I never said I wasn't going to help!" Sniffling, Red turned watering eyes up to the goat, who was struggling to keep her annoyed feeling down. Words crisp and bated, the goat quipped, "I'm a cook remember? I'm special."

* * *

Red sat on the floor, sullen as the goat ran greasy hooves through her hair. "How is this going to help?"

"You're brown haired. Hair is fifty percent of the appearance." Pausing, the goat reached over, scraped her hoof against the black, sooty, and oily surface of the stove, grimaced, "The cook before me did a horrible job… But it turned out to be helpful…" She turned back to Red, patted some the black grease onto the brown strands of hair, turning it from a bright brown to a yucky black.

Red twisted to glance up at her, "But won't they still recognize me?"

"That's why," The goat frowned at her, "I'm putting _grease_ in your hair and turning it into a disgusting _mess_."

"But what about my face and my eyes and-"

"We'll put some chestnut oil on your skin, make it darker. Your eyes stay the way they are unless you want to be blind for the rest of your life." Standing, the goat hurried over to her personal cupboard, opened it, and withdrew an unopened bottle of chestnut oil before pausing, twitching her ears, and then motioning to Red quickly.

Red dove to cower against the counter as the door slammed open, revealing three guards. Stomping in, they nodded curtly to the goat before one announced, "We're here to search the kitchen, ma'am."

Feigning surprise, the goat cooed sarcastically, "Whatever for, darling?"

"The King's pet is gone!"

Behind the counter, Red gritted her teeth. So she was a _pet_ now?

The goat fingered her bearded chin before shrugging, "I would have seen her. I'm sorry, but she's not here."

"We still need to search. _Everywhere_."

"Probably going in the wrong direction."

Instantly, the guards were stiff with attention, "Yes?"

"I found a mirror-band when I went to get water."

"Of what?" The guards leaned over the counter, eyes eager and hungry. The mirror-band of the King's pet might lead them to where she was!

"I don't know." Bending down, the goat picked up the discarded mirror-band before putting it on the counter, shoving it across. "Found it by the lower levels, if that's any help."

Grabbing it, the guard with a brown handkerchief tied around his throat, turned, ordered his comrade, "Test it." He held it out.

The guard sighed, took it, and, pulling a small mirror from his pocket, pushed it against the side of the mirror-band. After a moment, he nodded, "Yes, this is it."

Instantly, the two others turned, sprinted from the room, leaving the guard holding the mirror-band to gape helplessly before calling weakly, "Hey… Wait…" Turning, he ran after them.

The goat instantly bent and whispered to Red, "That should put them on the wrong trail for a while, but we need to get you through that mirror as soon as possible, understood?"

Red nodded, silent.

* * *

The rest of the day passed quickly, the sun descending to its bed beyond the distant horizon. A soft wind started to edge across the tops of the trees, causing them to sway to and fro as they bowed to the touch.

The Wolf had made a small fire for Peter, the baby memory eater, and himself with some flint stones that Irit had supplied. Now, as they nestled around the fire, sleeping, the fire crackled softly, licking at the wood eagerly which the Wolf had thrown into the small circle of stones. Peter was curled around the memory eater, who was gently kneading his big 'brother's arm with small paws.

Up on his stone shelf, Irit lay still, eyes open but mind turned off. In his dreams, he chased rabbits, brought each and every one of them down. As a result, his tail would twitch every so often, venom dripping down from the tip every time he killed a rabbit in his dreams.

It was midnight. Outside, the moon was high in its stead, ruling over the stars, and blaring down its soft light at the dark, long shadow that crept up towards Irit's cave. It hesitated at the entrance before delving in, the darkness of the cave swallowing it up.

Upon entering the main cavern, where all three wolves and the one scorpion slept, the shadow paused before sneaking to the sleeping Wolf, bending over him as it thought, and then hissing softly.

Irit sniffled in his sleep before clicking his fangs together, a small piece of cloth stuck in between them. Thinking it the rabbit in his dreams, he began to slowly tear it apart and swallow down the pieces.

The shadow glared at him before bending its head, whispering into the Wolf's ear, "Hello, Wolf… I have a question… Could you wake up, perhaps…?"

The Wolf stayed still, lost in his drowsiness.

Slowly, the shadow knelt, put its hands to the Wolf's chest, and pinched. When it received no response, it hissed again, grabbed his ear, and yanked angrily.

Yelping, the Wolf sat up, glanced around frantically, and then froze when he saw not-Hansel silhouetted against the faint light that streamed in from outside. Angrily, the thoughts of the mirror-man's betrayal running through his head, he snarled, "What are… what are you doing here?"

Not-Hansel reached up, scratched at his blonde hair as a guilty look crossed his face, and asked, "Well… Depends… You wouldn't happen to know where my original's little sister is, would you?"

"…Red? Isn't she at the castle with-"

"So you didn't get her out? She's still in there?" Not-Hansel moaned, put his head into his hands. "I thought that maybe you guys had pulled off another miraculous escape and I could bargain so I could use a general mirror to send her back through to my original. He's going insane, I tell you! Spending hours and hours in front of mirrors and trying to figure out a way back through, and I can't take off this cursed thing till he's not in front of the demmed mirror!" Crouching, the reflection of Hansel sobbed openly into his hands, frustrated. "And if she's still in there, how can I get her out? It's impossible!"

The Wolf stared at not-Hansel before inquiring, "She… escaped?"

"And, if she's not with you, she must be in the castle…" Not-Hansel gazed up at him with watering eyes, "The King's gone mad just trying to find her and my original looks just about ready to shoot himself in the head! Please tell me you know where she would go… Please… Where would a little girl go in a castle fraught with spiders and mirrors? I have to find her before the King does… Please…"

The surprise faded from the Wolf's insides, only to be replaced with anger, "Why should I tell you? You betrayed us!"

"I was following orders!" cried not-Hansel softly, eyeing the sleeping Irit with a frightened, refracting eyes. "You don't know him! You follow him or die!"

"You didn't have to take us! You could have just taken him the demon-"

"I couldn't find it!" the mirror-man snarled, angry tears running down his cheeks. "So shut up and help me figure where that stupid, little girl went before I decide I want to kill you and break my loyalty to my King!" He threw himself onto the ground, shivering in fury, in fright, in agitation. His hands reached out, grabbed the Wolf's ankles as he hoarsely whispered, "Where…?"

The Wolf's eyes grew wide as he gazed down at him before jerking his leg back out of not-Hansel's hands, leaving the man to curl up on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Please… Tell me… I have to get her back… Without her, my original will kill himself, and my son will be left to rot away without me… Please… You have sons… Sympathize…" Not-Hansel's face, flushed the ruddy red of misery, turned up towards the Wolf.

The Wolf cast a hurried glance back at Irit, wondering if he should wake up the scorpion, before returning suspicious eyes to not-Hansel, "Give me a reason why I should trust you."

Instantly, not-Hansel's palm-sized mirror was thrust in front of his face as the mirror-man wailed, "Look at him!"

The Wolf blinked, leaned forward to peer through the reflective surface. On the other side, the real Hansel sat in the bathroom, which he recognized as the one at Red's house. As he watched, Hansel twisted against the corner in which slept, revealing a dirty face, streaked with tear stains. The black that Morgan had put into his hair had worn down, staining his neck and shoulders a black from where it had dripped. Shivering with discomfort, he whimpered silently in his sleep before curling up with a moan.

"…He looks pretty bad." Commented the Wolf.

"Bad? _Bad_? He hasn't eaten anything! Hasn't bothered to relieve himself in the proper way! He'll catch sickness, maybe even that demmed fever! He'll get the rot-flesh disease or-" Not-Hansel trembled before bursting into tears again.

Irit mumbled in his sleep, tail curling forward in a threatening way as he heard an unfamiliar sound even through his sleep.

Seeing not-Hansel stiffen, the Wolf glanced over, saw Irit's movement, and asked, "Are you scared?"

"He'll eat me alive if he finds out I came in here."

"If he catches you, you mean."

"If you haven't noticed, I'm sort of stuck with my mirror-band as long as dear _original_," He layered the word with hate and frustration, "is a stubborn man and decides he _live_ in front of the mirror. Hasn't moved from that place for the longest time! Well… anyways… Irit can run faster than me when I'm like this. I'd be stung to death within seconds." Shivering, not-Hansel edged a bit to the side, placing the Wolf between him and the sleeping scorpion. "And… personally, I don't want to be stung by him. I've heard it's agonizing."

"From who?"

"From those who were lucky and got off with only a drop of poison in their blood."

The Wolf flinched before whispering, "Well… I can tell you one thing: if Irit even tries to go after Peter, I'll-"

Suddenly irritable, not-Hansel snarled, "Just tell me where the girl would go!"

The Wolf snapped his jaws shut, cutting off his words, and glared at not-Hansel for a moment.

"Please?" added not-Hansel on an afterthought.

"She likes beds and kitchens. That's all I know. Places that are _warm_. And she'll probably try to escape through a mirror, however you do- Are you okay?" The Wolf cocked his head as not-Hansel turned a pasty yellow.

Shuddering violently, not-Hansel grabbed the Wolf, cowered against him, "Irit."

Twisting about, the Wolf saw Irit waking, claws snapping open and shut slowly as a low rumble rose from the innards locked within the carapace. With a click which could have been a yawn, the scorpion turned on his shelf, grumbling, "Wolf… Do you have any idea how tired I am?" He crawled off before pausing, one of his legs trembling by Peter, before turning, trundling along the opposite way to avoid the sleeping obstacle. "I haven't slept since the day before yesterday…."

The Wolf felt not-Hansel's hands dig into his pants and into the fur underneath as the scorpion neared. Hurriedly, he said, "I'll be quiet. You can go back to sleep.""Mm… Well, I'm hungry. Want to come with me, find a late-snack? I can show you a locust. They're rather good…" Irit snapped his fangs in a friendly way.

"No, thanks. You can go."

"Really?" From his tone, Irit was disappointed. "I mean, it's really pretty at night, and it's easier for me to see… We could go hunt by the castle, see if we can find any side entrances, though I doubt it. I just thought… Well… I never went hunting with an original before, and I want to be able to brag about it one day. I can say 'I hunted with a memory eater _and_ the original of the King'…"

"Who would you tell that to?"

"…Nancy."

Feeling not-Hansel clutch at his legs, the Wolf muttered, "Well, I think you should just go on. Someone has to stay here and watch Peter and the memory ea-"

Irit pressed forward, bumped his head against the Wolf's legs with a whine, "Please? It's for _Nancy_."

Tired of the conversation, the Wolf snapped, "No."

"Why no- Who's that?" Irit clicked his fangs, seeing the dark form that blurred by the blot that was the Wolf in his vision.

Not-Hansel squeaked, hugged the Wolf's legs as if they were the last thing in the world.

When the Wolf didn't answer his question, Irit snarled and repeated, "Who is that?"

The Wolf hesitated before saying, "Hansel's reflection."

Instantly, Irit scrambled forward, clicking angrily, and bowled the Wolf over. His claws clicking furiously, he grabbed at not-Hansel as the mirror-man bounded up and away, frantic and sweating profusely. "Demmed snake! Come into my home? I'll have your guts for a snack!" His tail jerked forward instinctively as he scrambled after the scorpion, leaving the Wolf dazed.

Not-Hansel ran to the wall, turned, and waited for the furious Irit. Slowing, the scorpion hissed before lunging for the snake, reaching out with his crushing, sharp claws.

Not-Hansel dove under them, dodged to the side as the stinger plunged down to scratch across the stone, leaving a long trail of venom. Thrusting himself underneath the scorpion, not-Hansel attached himself to one of the legs and held on for dear life.

Clicking furiously, Irit turned, trying to reach back and grab the annoying man off of his leg.

The Wolf stood, grumbled towards them, "Irit! Stop it! Stop it!"

Irit turned towards him, snarled, "No! Help me get him off! He dared to come into my home! He will die! I will watch him die by my," Twisting about, he stung to the side, the stinger scraping along the hard carapace just above the leg, "venom!"

The Wolf grabbed the tail as it drew back to deliver another sting. Struggling to hold it back, he gasped, "Please! Stop! He might be able to get me back to my world! Stop!"

Irit froze before grumbling, "_You_ invited him in?"

"Well, he came in by himself, but he's offering a lot."

"So… He's offering you a way to be betrayed again? He'll take you to the castle and hand you over to cousin again? What will he do with your son? Eat him?"

"He needs Red."

"The girl?"

"Hansel's… kind of going through a break down. Don't worry. He," The Wolf pointed a finger at not-Hansel, "showed me proof."

"With what?""His mirror."

"…" Irit paused before crouching in disappointment, raising the leg from which his hated enemy hung, and wriggling it, complaining, "Get off, snake."

Not-Hansel hesitated.

"I said get off!"

Not-Hansel dropped from the sharp leg, scrambled over to the Wolf, and hid behind as the scorpion turned again, clicking angrily. Stiffly stalking past the Wolf, he climbed back onto his shelf, thumped down, and growled, "Go on then…"

Hurriedly, not-Hansel whispered, "I just need to know where Red will have gone in the castle. I never said anything about-" When he saw Irit's tail lift in anticipation, he hastily changed his words, "I'll take him to the castle, and once we know that Red is safe back with my original, I'll send him through."

"Again, can't he just go through a general mirror?"

"The King's is the least violent."

"The Wolf got along with the one in the lake cave."

"Huh?" Startled, not-Hansel jerked to place amazed eyes upon the Wolf, "You talked to the water-mirror and he let you live? He's one of the most violent ones!"

"I know." Muttered the Wolf sourly.

"…Oh… Well… If he got along fine with the water-mirror, then he can use that, but I need to know where R-" Not-Hansel froze before sniffing, "Do I…" He turned, hurried to the fire, sniffed, and then knelt by Peter.

"What are you doing?" snarled the Wolf, starting over.

Yanking the diamond from around Peter's neck, not-Hansel hissed, "Do you know what this is?" Holding it up, he glared at Irit, who shrugged his claws.

"No."

"You don't?" Not-Hansel's face grew red with rage before he asked furiously, "Who gave this to you?"

The Wolf opened his mouth to answer before a familiar, tired voice issued from the diamond, "Ah… Why did you have to tell him?"

In an instant, Irit was at the exit of the cave, flaring and bristling in a horrible, frightened fury, "You brought the mirror with you?"

Not-Hansel dropped the diamond, stepped back as water began to trickle out of it. As the Wolf stared, the liquid twisted up, forming the mirror, who smiled sharply, "Hello again."

Fury raced up into the Wolf's chest, "I told you I wouldn't take you! You-"

"I came along as protection for _my_ son. You said I couldn't come along to kill people to help you, and I haven't." Turning, stepping past the livid not-Hansel, he bent, scooped up the sleeping memory eater, and, with a weary grin, bent to kiss it on the nose. Then, with a small sigh, he waved a hand, spoke a few murmured words. A small bottle filled with black liquid formed from the water of his hand, and he pushed the carved tip into the baby's mouth.

Sniffling in its sleep, the memory eater curled up, began to slowly drink from the bottle.

The Wolf glared, "If you could have fed him, why didn't you tell us? At least have given us some of that? We had to have a deer come in to feed him!"

The mirror chuckled, "And it was very fun to watch."

As the Wolf squawked angrily, Irit hissed under his breath, attracting the mirror's attention. Staring at the scorpion, the mirror's face fell before he muttered, "And you… I remember you…"

Irit scuttled back, scared and furious.

"And I don't believe we've met." The mirror glanced over his shoulder at not-Hansel, who clamped his mouth shut and refused to speak.

Dense silence lay over the cave for a few moment before the mirror sighed, withdrew the black bottle from the memory eater's mouth, and watched his son twist to accommodate the feeling of a full stomach. Turning him over, he began to gently tap the baby's back, "Well… I feel unwelcomed. Is coming along so taboo all of the sudden? De Lille doesn't throw much anyone in nowadays, and most mirror creatures know to avoid my cave… I'm bored. I _want_ to come."

From behind the Wolf, Irit snapped, "And you'll kill anyone you find in the process because you 'want to have fun', won't you?"

Feigning surprise, the mirror put a hand to his chest and said sarcastically, "Would I do that?"

"Yes!"

"Well then… I'm _truly_ sorry." The mirror smirked before flinching as the memory eater spit up over his arm. Glaring down at the roly-poly, black puppy, he grimaced and set it back down on the ground, "But I couldn't help but overhear your little conversation about us general mirrors."

The Wolf instantly sobered, a small, hesitant smile trying to push itself onto his lips, "You can… send us back?"

"Well, personally, I don't _want_ to. My mirror's in De Lille, remember? I can't send you there with two little ones, especially _mine._" The mirror smiled nastily before stepping towards not-Hansel and whispering, "And I heard something about your original. He was the one with the demon stone, no?"

"… Yes…" Not-Hansel cast a suspecting glare at the mirror.

Without a warning, the mirror snaked a hand out, grabbed not-Hansel by the collar of his tattered shirt, and dragged him close. As the mirror-man flailed in his arms, squeaking in horror, the mirror leaned forward and whispered, "You have a mirror. I need it for a moment. Give."

Not-Hansel stared up at the emotionless, black eyes, petrified.

"Give."

The mirror-man overcame his moment of frightened weakness, squeaked, hurriedly drew the mirror from his pocket, and shoved it into the mirror's hands before quickly backing away.

The mirror turned the mirror in his hands, looking at the shiny, metallic surface and smiling widely as he licked his lips. Bending his lips to the glass, he whispered a few lilting sounds before grinning, "Who wants to talk to my cousin?"

The Wolf and not-Hansel stared at him.

"Nobody? I thought you were going to ask her to take you back to your world. No? I guess I could just-"

The Wolf lunged forward, "I do!"

The mirror smiled, held out the mirror, and then paused. Drawing it back, he glanced curiously at the shiny surface, and then waved the Wolf away, "Shh, shh… Wait, there's already someone there."

* * *

The King scratched idly at his gray disguise, feeling oddly small now that he had put his mirror-band on again. However, he needed to see to be able to track the general mirror's movements once she decided to come out and talk, if she did. Ignoring the guards behind him, he stepped closer to the mirror.

Raising a hand, he rapped his knuckles against the reflective surface of the silver-edged mirror, paused, and then knocked again, "Mirror? I need to ask something of you."

The mirror's surface darkened before a tired voice grumbled, "Oh, _please_. You're _always_ asking something of me." A little, red spark spat out of the mirror's surface, wafting towards the King's nose.

Rather used to this treatment, the King snorted, blowing it away, and rapped his knuckles against the glass again, "Please?"

"…Fine… Just tell me what you want and stop leaving marks on my surface…" The surface of the mirror darkened even more.

"I need you to find a girl. Show me where she is."

"Who's she? I need a name or-"

"An original…. And, while you're at it, show me _all_ the originals here. I need to find _mine_ too… But first… The girl…" The King leaned forward with a somewhat miserable slump dragging him down.

"…Sad?" A cloud of sparks inched out for the mirror; however, this puff twisted into the shape of a hand, brushed the King's nose with a gentle flicker of light.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Everyone seems to hate me lately."

"…Oh." The mirror glinted before the firey hand withdrew.

Inside her mirror-home, the fire-mirror sighed, turned, and waved a hand, a few sparks floating out of her fingertips to solidify into fuzzy reflections. Each one showed the blurry form of a different person. Recognizing all eight of the goats, the fire-mirror hastily waved them away, began to sort through the remaining images. Of the eight, there were only two girls, and one was with one of the goats.

"What color hair does she have?" She called.

Ears perking with delight at the tone of questioning in her voice, the King whispered into the glass, "It's brown."

Both of the girls had brown hair, but only one was trying to hide it with disgusting grease and covering her skin with oil, changing the color.

"Mm… Would she be in the castle or outside?"

"Inside."

"I have her then."

With an excited growl, the King lilted, "Could you pull her through for me?"

The mirror stilled before grunting, "Why would I want to do that?"

"It'd be a lot easier than me trying to go find her."

The mirror bit her lip, shrugged, and then started to reach for the mirror of sparkling cinders. However, the instant she was about to touch the surface, a rasping, familiar grumble distracted her. It was rather soft, but still utterly recognizable. Quickly, she waved a hand, closing the mirror at which the King waited, wanting not to be heard.

"Brother?" Surprised, she glanced up, saw water trickling through her main mirror.

Grumbling, the water-mirror fought his way up, the dust darkening the water that made him. Eyes glinting with annoyance, he spat a wad of ash onto the ground before complaining, "Do you never clean in here? You know how much soot clogs me up." He stepped forward, grimace sharp and angry.

The fire-mirror rolled her eyes, "Grumbling and eating is all that you ever do. Now shut up and let me work. The King is sad, and you know how that is for the-"

"Mm… Well, me and the King have a difference in interest. I'm hungry and I want a snack." Reaching his sister, he placed his narrow chin into the soft spot of her shoulder and let his arms criss-cross around her. "And I want the girl. Give me."

The fire-mirror glared at him before struggling out of his arms, grabbing her firey mirror, and glaring at him, "See what I mean? You want to eat again! How long has it been since you've last eaten? Let me guess: three hours?"

"Humph." The water-mirror glared at her, crossing his arms, "Some sister you are."

"You know our first duty should be to the King!"

"I've misplaced that duty a long time ago. If you find it, then I will gladly go back. However… I'm hungry _now_." The water-mirror stepped forward, a pointy grin replacing his angry scowl.

The fire-mirror glowered at him before smirking, "You're not going to eat her."

The other mirror paused before challenging softly, "How do you know?"

"I can tell. You're not salivating or jumping around like a rabbit as you usually do."

The water-mirror bit his lip, drawing water, and then smirked, "Fine then. You have me. So give me her."

"What are you going to-"

An indignant knock came from the direction of the large mirror. Glancing over, the fire-mirror frowned before whispering, "He asked first. And he _is_ our King."

"Yours, but not mine."

"Still… I should really give her to him."

"No, you shouldn't. Just say you were mistaken. I have friends who need the girl."

"Friends? Who do that include? A single, dead fish?" scoffed the fire-mirror.

* * *

The King knocked angrily at the glass, watching it cloud over with dark sparks, "Mirror? Are you there? You said you saw the girl. Will you get her for me? Mirror?"

A small crackling noise caught his ears, and he grew dizzy before reaching up, grabbing the tab of his mirror band, and ripping it off. The minute he drew it away, the small mirrors attached to the band shattered with a sharp crack, just as he flinched into his normal form.

Suddeny, the torches that lined the room flared, the fire burning wildly and devouring their wooden stakes within seconds. The flames dropped to the floor as the sparks flew up, the speed of the particles causing them to squeal out a wail as they buffeted the walls, the floors, the King, and the guards, searing their skins with an incredible heat.

The King flinched away, covering his eyes, and then felt something splash against his foot. Daring to open an eye, he stared down at the water that had begun to pour out of the mirror before swearing loudly and scrambling back.

The water-mirror wrenched up, eyes ablaze and locked onto the searing fire-storm that immediately began to scrunch together into the form of an enormous beast, whose eyes glowed like red-hot coals and whose skin crackled with the fire that made it. The King dove hastily out of the way as the fire-monster lunged forward at the water-mirror, its teeth snapping angrily. Laughing viciously, the water-mirror skipped out of the way before crooking his fingers, a maniacal smile pasted onto his pale face.

Almost instantly came a low, dangerous rumble.

Freezing, the fire-monster snapped its jaws at the water-mirror, as if to say 'You wouldn't dare'.

Pinpricks of red creeping into his eyes, the water-mirror bore his teeth before thrusting his hands towards the beast, as if he were throwing something heavy at it.

Water cracked out from beneath them, the stones of the floor popping up like corks against the extreme pressure. Rearing up like snakes, they stabbed out at the fire-monster, piercing its side. The King snarled his fright as water lapped up around the middle of his legs. Water! He would drown! Desperate, he scuttled to the door, yanked it open with his forelegs, and scrambled out.

The fire-monster shrieked before bursting into a cloud of cinders and ashes, which immediately shrieked to the heaven oaken doors in an attempt to escape.

Grinning hungrily, the water-mirror melted down into the knee high water, hissing, "Not until you give me that mirror, dear sister…" With a watery slurp, the liquid twisted up, turning into a thin, sharp-legged creature, long tongue lolling out as red, sparkling eyes rolled madly about. Its sharp teeth bared, it vaulted towards the door, squeezed out into the hall, and followed the storm that was its sister.

* * *

"Good God! What a noise!" With an angry snort, the goat tapped her wooden spoon against the edge of the black pot, glaring at the door.

Red glared moodily at the door, waiting for the greasy oil that the goat had applied to her hair to dry. How disgusting! She hated the greasy feeling that made her hair lay against her face like a wet leaf! "It sounds like someone's dying."

"Someone probably is. There's always someone dying in this place." Shrugging, the goat poked her spoon into the half-cooked noodles, grimaced, and then turned to grab a small pot of spice. Opening it, she pinched some into the pasta before stirring at it again.

"…I hate it here."

Here, the goat paused, glanced back at the little refugee who sat so miserably on her kitchen floor, "Once you get used to it…"

"How could you get used to it? It's _horrible_!"

"… Well… I'm just used to it. I've been living here since a year after my husband passed away and we were the targets as prey…. Twelve, thirteen years? Something around that period of time." The goat left the pot, stepped over to her chair, stopped, and then turned to adjust her wimple in a small mirror that hung over the counter, dangerously close to falling from its pin. "It was for safety. Back then, our world was the one that was chaotic. Never did I think that it would descend so quickly into this madness." Turning, she sat in the chair, picked up her knitting needles, and muttered under her breath as another crash and rumble of stones cracking came, "Can these people never be quiet?""It's still horrible." Grunted Red, ignoring the reasoning in the goat's statement.

"Oh, yes." Remarked the goat sarcastically, "Go and be a little brat. Be horrible and self-centered. Not like _I_ care."

Red blinked, glanced over, and blushed furiously, "Oh… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to… be rude…"

"No one ever does, but they always are. Sort of annoys me, especially when they're-"

"Ah! No! Give it back! Give it-" came a high-pitched screech, cracking and tumbling to their ears like the sound of wind.

A triumphant roar drowned out the rest of the shrilly voice.

Suddenly, a long, thick, and clear thread of liquid shot out of the mirror above the counter, the tip splitting into sharp claws as it snatched at Red. Grabbing Red's hair, who shrieked in surprise and horror, it began to reel her back. Leaping up, the knitting needles still in her hands, the goat lunged forward, grabbed Red's feet just as she was pulled past, and stopped her, leaning against the immense pull of the water-mirror.

Tensing, the water undulated before four thread separated from the main stalk and quickly curled about Red, binding her and stilling her frantic movements. The claws dropped her, and the water began to turn its attention to the goat. The goat grabbed Red, dragged her back as the thick thread's tip split into sharp mess of teeth. The jagged gap opening, the water hissed at the goat, warning her to stay away and leave it to its prize.

The goat, without a bat of an eye, jabbed her knitting needles forward, stabbing them deep into the watery flesh. Snarling, it charged her, knocking her over, and then snagged Red's shirt in its teeth and dragged her back, heedless of the screaming that rose from the girl.

Staggering up, the goat lunged after them just as the water thing pulled Red into the mirror.

* * *

**OOC: Sorry for the extremely late update, but I'm sick. I'll be working on the story, but it may be a while before the next chapter is posted, due to my sickness and my first few chapters of the fanfic that I'll be writing after this one. (I probably should wait to write anymore on that one and finish this one). Thanks for reading! **


	63. The AirMirror

**OOC: Flu. Stinks. Like. Crazy.**

* * *

Red thought she was drowning, liquid clogging up her throat as she thrashed violently against her watery bonds. The water-mirror had brought her into a dark place, a place where she was blind as well as helpless.

It seemed like hours passed while she wriggled against the strong grip of the water, but it was really only seconds before she was yanked back into the light.

She landed on the floor, only to be crushed by the soggy goat that shrieked as she fell from the mirror. The goat rolled away immediately, shaking violently. Retching, Red coughed up the water she had swallowed into the ground that smushed up against her face.

"Red!"

For a few disorienting seconds, Red tried to lift her head, but found herself frozen in surprised weakness. That almost sounded like the-

A gray paw thrust itself under her face, catching her chin so it could direct her face up. Delighted, milky eyes met hers, and the Wolf smiled broadly, "You're alive!"

Red stared before bursting into tears and dragging herself up to hug the Wolf's forearm. Her lungs pulsed in agony, trying to expel the disgusting water that had pervaded them, and the soft fur that the Wolf sported presented itself as a comfort she needed so very much after days of torment.

The Wolf stared down at the girl who sobbed openly into his fur before brushing his fingers through her hair, careful to not scratch her with his claws. Not knowing what else to say, he whispered, "Shh… You'll wake Peter."

Red's crying quieted.

The Wolf's eyes lingered on the wet strands of brown hair for a few moments before he turned them up, enraged when he heard the tell-tale smirk of the mirror. Dusting away imaginary dust from his shoulder, the mirror grinned wickedly, "Not even a thank-you?"

"You nearly drowned her!" hissed the Wolf and not-Hansel together before pausing to glance at each other. Their eyes narrowed.

"Well, I could have eaten her." Suggested the mirror with a small chuckle.

Hurriedly, the Wolf grunted, "Thank you."

The mirror nodded approvingly, "You're welcome. Now that the thank you is over with…" He turned suddenly narrowed eyes to the goat, who sat there like a miserable dog stuck in a downpour, "What about the sheep…?"

The goat snapped irritably, "Goat." She reached up, began to tug at the wimple that had been pulled down over her eyes during the violent abduction. The pins that held it there had tangled into her fur, leaving her blinded for the moment.

The mirror licked his lips, glanced at the Wolf, "I'll eat her."

The goat stiffened, but relaxed when Irit grumbled, "No eating anyone, mirror. Not yet, anyways."

Eyes turning to slits of black, the mirror glared at the scorpion, who still wavered at the cave's entrance, "And so says the coward."

Before Irit could retort, the Wolf snarled, "Nobody eats anyone! Now shut up before you mirror-things wake up Peter and the baby!"

Silence fell, the mirror, Irit, and not-Hansel trading suspicious and hate-filled glances, before Red, recovering her voice, asked softly, "Baby?"

The Wolf nodded absently, "The memory eater… is now a very small baby. Let's just say that." He didn't want to tell her that the previous memory eater had died fighting for Peter and him; it would only start her off with her worrying.

Red sat up, glanced blankly about, "Rea-"

"Ah! Finally!" Pursing her lips, the goat yanked the wimple from her head, revealing small, sawed-off stumps of horns. "Wimple is a deathtrap, I tell you. Pull it down over somebody's mouth and they would suffo-" Her eyes darted about, settled on the Wolf, and froze, just as the rest of her body did. Her sentence cut short, and she was left to stare.

The Wolf blinked, returned the stare for a moment, and then asked defensively, "What?"

Uneasily, the goat scooted back just a little, eyes narrowing, "You're a _wolf_." Her words held the nastiest tone that she could muster.

"I'm _the_ Wolf. Head of the family, mind you. Who're you?" The Wolf asked curiously, a bit confused at her hostile and wary reaction to him.

The goat pursed her lips, staggered up, muttered, "Stupid wolves… Never trust a wolf… Horrible beasties… Come to your door with chalk and flour to steal your children away." She dusted herself off before freezing when the mirror clicked his teeth at her, eyes hungry.

The Wolf cast a withering glare at the mirror, "Can't you just get along and not make everybody think you're going to eat them?"

"Nah. No fun whatsoever." The mirror smiled at him before splashing into a puddle of water, which evaporated quickly back into the diamond, which had been forgotten upon the floor.

The goat stared at the diamond for a few seconds before glaring back at the Wolf, "So you're not Bartholemew?"

Surprised by the sudden and abrupt question, the Wolf blinked before asking hesitantly, "How do you know my father?"

"Never was told the story about me and my seven kids?"

The Wolf stared at her before a dark hatred crept into his eyes, causing him to bristle slightly, "It was told at his _funeral_."

"See? Wolves are nasty creatures, trying to eat children."

The Wolf snapped his teeth at her, "If I didn't have a little girl clutching to me, I would go over and bite you in half!"

"And I'll poke your eye out with a knitting needle, if the mirror would give it back." The goat nudged the diamond with the tip of her shoe.

Laden with weariness, the mirror's voice growled, "I just finished fighting my sister… Now leave me to my rest. And, no, you're not getting the pokey things back. You stabbed me with them..."

The Wolf grinned savagely, but frowned when the goat sighed, "Oh well… I'll just have to kick you and stab you with my horns then, won't I?"

The Wolf licked his lips, "And I'll just have to have myself an excellent dinner."

Silence filled the space in between them, a quiet glare grinding through the air between them.

After a few moments, Red glanced up from the Wolf's fur, sniffling, "You're going to eat her?"

"I want to, yes." The Wolf's eyes didn't leave the goat.

"But she was the one that saved me in the castle…"

"Sorry, but that doesn't apply to me."

The goat smirked, loosening the buttons at her wrists, "I might be old, but I can still fight. I'll teach him to respect his elders, girl, don't worry."

Enraged, the Wolf started to stand, but found himself restrained by the simple clutching of Red. Glaring down at her hands, which were twisted into his fur, he grumbled, "Are you ever going to let go?"

Red's narrowed and glittering eyes met his, "You're not going to eat her. Don't even _try_."

"Not this again… C'mon… You said the same thing with Hansel and yourself. Let me have the goat…"

"_No_."

The Wolf bared his yellowing teeth before suddenly pushing it away and replacing it with a pained smile, "Before I get angry at you, I have to tell you some good news."

Red watched him warily, "Yes…?"

"Peter can see again!"

Blinking, Red gazed at him for a few long moments in disbelief.

"What…?"

* * *

The King was annoyed, furious, and disgusted, stomping about the throne room as he grumbled angrily under his breath. His dull, black eyes cast nasty glares at the guards who trembled at the doorway. In between the guards was the mirror where the fire-mirror dwelled. The surface was dark with inner rage, sparks crackling from the surface. 

Finally, he snarled, "So she's eaten?" Inside his mind, the image of his little pet, his little spiderling, tortured him.

The fire-mirror grumbled, "No."

"Then where is she? I _want _her. _Now_." The King snapped his teeth at her, eyes darkening in his fury.

"Brother's hiding her from mirrors. I don't see _anything_. Sorry, but I cannot tell you where she-"

The King came closer, his fur raising on end, "Then do better! Break through his enchantment! I want her back!"

"He's _water_ and _I _am _fire_. He's naturally stronger. I'm sorry, but I can't do-"

Without a warning, the King stabbed forward with a leg, and, instants later, the sound of breaking glass snapped into the air. The guards jumped back, yelping, as the mirror's shards fell to the ground to shatter. Shuddering with rage, the King glowered down at the polished glass. Speechless for a few long minutes, the guards gulped. One finally whispered hoarsely, "You… You killed… You killed a general mirror."

The King had been staring at the glass shards in angry surprise, as if he had been startled at his own actions; however, coming over the initial surprise, he turned delighted eyes up to his underlings, "And we will kill the others."

Shocked and dismayed, the guards took an involuntary step back. Kill all of the general mirrors? It was madness to even think so! They were tyranical monsters that could eat you up in a second!

"We can't do that!"

The next second, the guard who had spoken out choked as the King closed his sharp black fangs around his neck and roughly twisted to the side, tearing flesh away. Holding the struggling, screeching card captive in abnormally strong arms, he spat the bloody chunk out before hissing, "I heard words I did not like. I am your King! You will listen or die!" Lowering his voice, he put his mouth to the guard's ear and whispered maliciously, "Understood?"

The guard sobbed openly, "Y-y-yes, sir…."

Dropping the guard, the King waved his foreleg at the other angrily, "Muster the soldiers and have them march on the other general mirrors." He turned, muttered, "Because, if the general mirrors die, no one can come in or go out. That'll be better for all of us… And check in with Irit and the lieutenant as well…" He stared down at the floor before noticing the guard frozen in surprise. Hissing, he spat, "I said 'go'!"

The guard nodded, whirled about, and sprinted from the room.

* * *

"Marie…" pined Peter, trying to shove himself into Red's lap. "I want to sit in your lap. Please?" 

Red sighed, "Peter… I'm holding the baby right now."

"But why can't you hold me too?"

"Because there's not enough room for the two of you."

Peter was about to retort when the Wolf snaked a paw out, grabbed his son by the shoulder, and pulled him back. Hugging Peter to his chest, he whispered, "Don't bother Red now, Peter."

"But she's _my _friend too…" Peter glared at the memory eater sourly.

The memory eater burbled happily in Red's arms, trying to grab the finger she waved above his nose. Grabbing it, he nipped at the fingernail before thrusting it away, curling up into a small, black ball, and giggling as he tugged at his own tail.

The mirror watched Red warily; he didn't know this strange girl, and having her handle his 'son' so soon filled him with paranoid suspicion. "Well, little wolf… If you haven't noticed, you're a bit too _big_ to sit on her lap anyways. Stick with your father's."

"… But I want to sit in _Marie's_ lap…" Moaned Peter. "Papa and Marie aren't the same."

The Wolf's ears twitched with annoyance before he tickled Peter's ears, "No, we aren't, thankfully."

"But-"

"Get off me, you gluttonous bugger!" hissed the goat's voice.

The Wolf blinked before glaring up witheringly. The goat, sitting sullenly in the corner, glowered at Irit, who had changed back into his mirror-band. Not-Hansel stood beside him. They seemed to have forgotten their grievances against each other for the moment being.

"Why won't you show us what's in the pouch?" growled not-Hansel, pointing at the small pouch that hung from the goat's bodice.

"It's probably nothing." Commented Irit.

"Or it could be a dagger."

The goat pursed her lips, "Do I look like one to carry a dagger?"

"Seeing you have a pair on your head, yes."

"Those are horns, dimwit."

Not-Hansel blinked before bristling, "I would watch your tongue, original! If you haven't noticed," He glanced back, bit his lip as he quickly counted, and then continued, "six of the seven of us are predators… Or five, if you don't count the baby. And we can't give you to the mirror, 'cause he'd be all disgusting afterwards."

The goat snorted, "You'd really lose your teeth on me?"

"I wouldn't mind. I haven't eaten since the day before yesterday. Stupid original won't leave his place in front of his mirror... Which means I can't _eat_." Not-Hansel glanced at Irit.

"I… ate recently." admitted Irit.

"I call her if we do get to eat her then."

The mirror put a hand over his stomach with a thoughtful look, "You know… I'm hungry too."

Everybody's eyes, except for Peter's, Red's, and the memory eater's, turned to the mirror with a look of disgust.

The Wolf bared his teeth, "Well, you're just the bottomless pit, aren't you? Let me ask you: How much can you _hold_?"

"… Mm…" For a few moments, the mirror tapped his pale chin, thinking, before saying hesitantly, "Why do you want to know?"

"It's a lot, isn't it?"

"… Compared to what?"

"What I can hold."

"… About… several times that, I would guess." The mirror shrugged uneasily.

The Wolf blinked before gruffly grunting, "Glutton."

The mirror's black eyes flashed before tiny pinpricks of yellow glowed in the center, "Well, it's better than starving half of the time and being restricted to a liquid diet for a good many months."

The Wolf's nose crinkled in annoyance, "I really wish you couldn't absorb my memories or whatever you do and then know all these little details about me."

"Ah, it's fun… You would enjoy it too if you could do what I did…" The mirror snorted in a snarky tone before pausing, glancing over Red, and licking his lips, "How much do we really need the girl?"

Instantly, not-Hansel, Irit, and the Wolf stood between the mirror and Red, each bristling with unbridled fury. In chorus, they snarled, "Don't you dare even think about eating her!"

The mirror regarded them crossly, "I was just _asking_… But she really does look appetizing."

Not-Hansel sniffed angrily before turning and growling, "We need to put them back through a general mirror as soon as possible…. Not you, of course." He glared at the water-mirror, who grinned sharply back at him.

Irit fidgeted, "And not the castle's general mirror, since it seems to want to give her back to the King…"

The mirror grimaced, "You needn't worry about that. Sister's dead."

Blinking, not-Hansel and Irit hissed, "What?"

"The King killed her not but thirty minutes ago."

Irit and not-Hansel's eyes widened, and they were about to snarl their surprise when the memory eater began to wail, twisting in Red's arms as he tried to escape her hold. Squeaking, Red tried to keep her hold upon him, but he managed to slide out from between her hands and, little arms windmilling, pulled himself towards Peter, whining loudly, little ears laid fully back.

Peter stared at it before reaching forward and dragging it to his chest, burying the tip of his pinkish-gray nose into the black fur.

The mirror suddenly stiffened. Seemingly startled, he glanced about, the pinpricks in his eyes turning from a bright yellow to a dark red, "Ah… My _brother_ seems to want a visit…"

The Wolf noticed that both not-Hansel and Irit paled. Disregarding this, he asked curiously, "Who's he?"

"..." The mirror glared at him, "Hungrier than I am."

A dark laugh suddenly echoed out of not-Hansel's pocket, "Oh, brother… You know you get so many more snacks than I do in that easy-access cave of yours…"

Not-Hansel yelped, hurriedly withdrew his mirror from his pocket, and dropped it as a black mist began to creep from it. He hurriedly skipped back, as did Irit.

The water-mirror glowered sullenly at the darkness that crept out, "It's because you live on the most remote mountain known to mirrorkind. It's not my fault."

The black particles swirled around before clumping together, forming the general shape of a very tall man, around nine feet. However, the outlines blurred every other second, giving the mirror an appearance of drifting in and out of focus. He was featureless, no lines telling where bones or muscles or useful organs might have been; the only thing that strayed from the black that made him was the wide, perfectly circular eye that gazed down at them, glowing a bright white.

Drifting out of focus, the air-mirror floated closer to his brother, the wide and calculating eye never leaving the three mirror-creatures and the four originals. "Mmm… Snacks… I want one, brother…"

The water-mirror latched a cold eye on his much taller shadow of a brother, "They are not snacks."

The air-mirror's one eye closed before the one on the opposite side opened, this one a disgusting yellowish-silver. A low rumble that could have been a laugh or a growl ushered from him with an undernote of an amusement, "Not snacks? But they all look so," The fetid eye rolled in its misty socket before pausing upon Peter and the memory eater, "delicious…"

The water-mirror huffed distractedly, "Yes, yes, but they're not to eat. We have to get them through a general mirror… Hopefully you?"

"…Me?" The eye had changed targets again, this time regarding the goat with a hungry look. The outline of his fingers grew long and sharp, somewhat like claws.

"Yes. Your mirror would land them only a few miles south of where they live, unless you've been moved, and mine would only land them in De Lille… Yours is safer." The water-mirror stopped before bending to grab up not-Hansel's discarded mirror. "And sister and I last parted with harsh words. I wouldn't feel comfortable asking her."

The air-mirror's single eyes roamed over the staring mirror-creatures and originals before locking onto Red. Instantly, it narrowed, and the movement of his airy flesh became more erratic, turning the outlines into things impossible to trace.

"I'm hungry."

The water-mirror rolled his black eyes, "Yes, I know you are, but I'll give you my next person from De Lille if you do this for me _now_."

"I would do that only if you would give me that person _now_. How rude you are! To just look at me and argue with me and not even offer me a snack…?" The air-mirror's starving eyes strayed to the Wolf before returning to Red. Drops of water began to plop down onto the floor under his head, and Red shuddered.

"They're not snacks." Repeated the water-mirror irately as the water that fell from his brother's face trickled to join his foot. "So stop drooling after them."

"You can't make me believe you." Snorted the air-mirror, the swirls of dark mist curling towards the seven watchers.

"Well then, I'll say this: you _can't_ eat them!"

The air-mirror paused before retracting the puffs of himself that had been reaching for the onlookers. With a sigh, he grunted, "Then what _can_ I eat?"

The water-mirror blinked before pursing his lips, opening his mouth, pausing to think, and then biting his pale lips. Trembling, Irit intervened, "You… you can go hunting…."

The water-mirror's eyes widened. He stared at Irit with the look of hatred in his eyes before mouthing, "Are you bloody crazy?"

However, the air-mirror grew excited, his matter dispersing into a shapeless, black blob, "Yes! Yes! Brother! Let us go hunting! I have been so bored waiting for prey to drop by! I will leave your snacks be if you allow-" He stopped midsentence, closed his yellow eye slowly before snapping open the white one. In a much calmer tone, he continued, "If you allow me."

The water-mirror rolled his eyes, "I can't _stop_ you, can I?"

"…" The air-mirror wafted closer to his brother, "But I do need someone to direct me…."

"Fine. I'll go with you… I might as well get what water I can from the snow while I can. I'm tired to going back and forth to De Lille and my cavern to get more water." The mirror huffed, crossing his arms. "But there are going to be rules, brother!"

The air-mirror thrummed happily, "Yes, yes… But there are always rules, aren't they?"

His white eye closed before his yellow eye opened again and latched a sly stare upon Red.

* * *

The woods were full of birdsong, the birds trailing back to their usual home as the snow began to melt. Already, there were patches of dirt and dried, brown grass underfoot, and the constant crack of icicles falling to the ground to shatter was a common noise. 

The air-mirror floated forward, his fuzzy outlines only more distorted as he distorted, looking for prey. Behind him, the water-mirror grumbled sullenly under his breath, step-in-step with the Wolf, "Bloody, little brother… Always hungry… Always 'feed me, feed me'! Gah! I hate it so much!"

Behind the Wolf was Red, who stared in fright as she watched the trees darken and die as the air-mirror touched them, forcing himself into their bark and stealing what nutrients he could from them. She really wished she had stayed behind with not-Hansel and Irit, who had stayed in the cave to watch Peter, the memory eater, and the goat. "… Is… Is he poisonous?"

The mirror stopped, turned, and glared at her, "Let's just say you would never want him in your lungs if he didn't view you as a friend."

Ahead, the air-mirror chuckled, a ghostly, ominous whispering sound, "Mmm… And he could tell you that is usually is the case…" He paused, regarding a blackbird that lounged obliviously on a branch with his rotten, yellow eye.

The blackbird preened itself for a few more minutes before seeing the four below him. Its feathers rustling, it cooed a note before alighting.

Faster than Red's eye could follow, the air-mirror bolted upwards, giggling gleefully. His form twisted, and the bird found itself choking in the middle of a black cloud. It fell limp and began to fall.

The cloud followed it, constantly writhing about the small corpse. As the Wolf and Red watched in horror and the water-mirror watched in annoyance, the flesh was stripped from the bird, the meat disappearing into the black cloud, and all that hit the ground were bones and a few feathers.

The air-mirror wafted over the remains of his meal for a few moments before wrenching back into a definite form. A low chuckle breaking from its mouthless, undefined face, he whispered, "That was tasty."

Red felt bile rise to her mouth, but quickly swallowed it back down, leaving her mouth dry and throbbing, "…That… that was-"

Catching Red's hand, the Wolf pulled her to his side defensively as he finished her sentence for her, "_Disgusting_."

The air-mirror laughed darkly, turned, and wrenched out of sight.

The water-mirror rolled his eyes, "Please excuse him. He has no emotions whatsoever except for yellow malice." He strode forward, scooped up the bird's remains, and began to nibble at the end of a bone.

The Wolf glared at his back, "So you're the memory stealer and he's the emotion stealer? Something like that?"

"… He's not really into stealing emotions any more… And it's really only the emotions of the people he's around that affects him…" The water-mirror cracked the bone in between his unnervingly sharp teeth before glancing back at the Wolf and grinning, "You should have seen him when he stole the emotion of misery. Absolutely _hilarious_. He's stopped doing it to avoid his own humiliation."

Red shuddered.

The Wolf felt the shiver, glanced down in surprise, "Are you cold?"

"… Just a little…" sniffled Red.

A small thrum vibrated out of the air around them before the air-mirror squished back into view, "Cold…?" His yellow eye closed, leaving the white eye to open.

Red glared at him distrustfully, "Yes."

The air-mirror disappeared.

The water-mirror's eyes followed an invisible trail in the air before he barked, "Where are you going?"

There came no reply.

Huffing, the water-mirror glared at the Wolf, "Don't _move_. I have to make sure that little brother doesn't kill something _important_." He vanished.

The Wolf blinked, glanced about, and then sighed, "Please tell me that they're off to kill each other and we will never have to see either one of them again."

Red bit her lip before nodding and whispering, "They're scary."

The Wolf blinked before falling back to sit besides her, "I would agree to that."

Silence reigned for a few moments, the only noise being the occasional crack of a shattering icicle or a bird's chirp. Red slowly laid back, oblivious to the furtive glances that the Wolf cast in her.

Finally, the Wolf worked up his courage to ask softly, "He… he didn't hurt you, did he?"

"Hmm?"

"That reflection of mine… He didn't hurt you, did he?"

"…No… Just grew obsessed and annoying." Red sniffed.

"How so?"

"He wanted to keep me as a _pet_."

"…Oh…" The Wolf glanced away, a bit ashamed to have asked in the first place.

Red sighed, "And you? What have you been doing?"

"Oh… fighting mirrors… trying to stay alive… trying to keep Peter from running all over and getting into danger…" The Wolf grunted before pursing his lips, "Other than that… Being bored out of my wits while everybody else went saving you… I feel so useless here. The weakest of these mirror-things could eat me alive and then spit out what's left and then eat me again. I _hate_ it." He drew his knees up to his furry chest before grimacing, straightening out his legs again, and scratching idly at the scar that ran down his front.

Red saw the uneasy motion and asked, "Does your scar hurt?"

"Just… itchy." Lied the Wolf, for the truth was that it was really irritating him. It twinged every other second now, and he could only just hope that it wasn't a sign of infection. However, he couldn't let Red know that, or else she would start worrying, and he _hated_ it when she worried over him. He was the one who was supposed to take care of himself, not a little girl half the size of him!

Red sniffed before chafing at her arms, changing the subject, "It's still a little cold out, isn't it? It's kind of weird that the snow wasn't cold when we first came and now it is."

"Just the wind." Grunted the Wolf, letting his eyes slide back onto Red. For some reason, he thought that _she_ was the one that made his scar twitch so much. It had only just started when he had been left alone with her. Curses! He felt like he should do something, but what? Should he apologize for being such a bad adult, not trying to go back to save her when he had a chance? Or the fact that he only thought about himself and Peter when they were running about the castle with _keys_ and the _ability_ to find where she was? What was this horrible feeling of _guilt?_

Red sighed, "Well, I wish that it would stop being so cold because-"

"If you want, you can sit against me. I'm warm as a blanket." The Wolf smiled hesitantly at her.

Turning her eyes to him, Red pursed her lips before sniffing, "Sure." She propped herself up on her knees and elbows, crawled over towards him. Reaching his lap, she pulled herself up before leaning back against his chest.

The Wolf instantly locked his furry arms around her, relieved as the twitch in his belly subsided. This worked _better_ than an apology. "Mmm… That better?"

Red snuggled against him, delighted in the warmth that emanated from his fur, "Yes."

The Wolf smiled, began to rock slightly back and forth, a low purr rumbling out of his throat, "I'm glad I can be of help…"

The deep voice of the air-mirror echoed, "Glad to be of help…" It held an annoyed tone to it, as if he had been expecting to find them sitting apart, not nestled together.

The Wolf squeaked as an airy hand touched his back before travelling upwards. Twisting about, he stared up at the air-mirror, who was flickering in and out of focus erratically, and watched as the thing's yellow eye dulled with irritation. Snaking out a hand, the air-mirror grabbed Red by the hand and yanked her from the Wolf's arms. Red screeched, froze when he deposited her back onto the ground, and then squawked as a length of brown fur was held out by the air-mirror, whose yellow eye quickly brightened.

"I brought you warming fur, little morsel." Lilted the air-mirror in a self-satisfied tone.

Red blinked, gazed at the fur, and then felt a sick feeling when she saw tinges of pink still tinting the hide; it had been the air-mirror's most recent meal. "… No… thank you…"

"Hmm?" His outlines blurring, the air-mirror leaned forward, bending so he could peer into her face. "Is it because there are no armholes? I can make armholes…"

"No… Just… I don't want to wear it…"

The air-mirror's yellow eyes snapped shut before his white one slid open. Pulling back the fur, he grunted softly, "But I thought you were cold…"

The Wolf watched him warily, "Where's the other mirror?" At least he knew the other one well enough to know when danger was creeping up, but this one was a mystery to him.

"Did he follow me? Well… I don't really care _where_ he is…" The yellow eye slid open again before the air-mirror chuckled softly, "Just as long as he doesn't send me back to that empty pit I call my home…"

Red stared up at the yellow eye before biting her lip and asking, "I have a question. Can I ask?"

The air-mirror paused before giggling excitedly, "A question? For me? You want to start a conversation with me?" For a moment, both eyes opened, each blazing to a painful brightness, before he hurriedly shut the yellow one, sat down, and drew his cloudy legs to his chest. "No one's ever asked me for an answer before. I'm much too out of the way to be regarded as useful… And I like questions... Questions are needed to be answered." He sighed a self-pitying sound, his claws curling up in the gray fur that he still held.

Red snuck a glance at the Wolf, who had stood to come by her in cautious suspicion, before asking, "Are there two of you?"

"… Hmm?" The air-mirror's white eye flickered, and then a hoarse, grinding laugh rose out from its translucent chest. Raising his claws to motion at his lonely eye, he chuckled, "This? Why there is only one eye open at a time and I seem so different?"

"Yes."

"Oh, it's a habit… Just to show what my predisposition is… Yellow is poison, when I'm more apt to eat than listen… And white is the opposite… When both are open, it just sort of confuses me… I need to have a balance between them, so I remind myself to switch often." The air-mirror jolted up, held out the fur again when he saw Red let out a shiver, "Cold? Take it. Please."

Red sighed. She hadn't shivered because of the coldness of the air, but because of his explanation. He had two personalities which he could readily switch? How… creepy. She reached out to take the fur, but stopped when the mirror stiffened, switching to his yellow eye, his claws digging into the fur.

"Hmm…" The air-mirror thrummed for a moment, staring down at Red with a suddenly dismayed look. After a few moments, he turned, bawled, "Brother!"

For a few moments, there was no response.

"Brother!" The air-mirror faded, his outlines distorting as he billowed up in sudden anger.

The water-mirror fazed into view at his brother's side, eyes hard, and growled, "Yes, I know they're there."

The Wolf blinked, "Who?"

"The King's guards. They're heading for the scorpion's cave." The water-mirror grumbled, as if he had just been told that a hive of bees had taken over his room.

The air-mirror made an odd crackling sound before whispering, "I'll take care of them if you want me too." His yellow eye narrowed, its brightness dulling to an angry gold.

"No, it's not worth it. I'll just send a message back for them to get out of there. I left my diamond, remember." The water-mirror dug not-Hansel's palm-sized mirror from his pocket, turned away from the others, and began to hoarsely rasp into it.

As his brother messaged the five people back in the cave, the air-mirror swirled about, his eyes glinting, "I take my hunting is over?"

"…I would guess so." Said the Wolf after a few moments of hesitation.

A loud sigh groaned out over them as the air-mirror drooped. His yellow eye flickered shut before the white one opened. Quietly, he asked, "So I should help you guys to my mirror, no?"

The water-mirror jerked about, gawping, "Are you _actually_ offering to help?"

"… Is it that much of a surprise?" grumbled the black form sourly, his white eye twitching before switching back over to the yellow one. "She _started_ a conversation with me... That's very nice..."

"I know that you would just rather- Wait." The water-mirror raised his head, nostrils flaring, and then ran a trembling hand through his white, slicked-back hair. His black eyes gained dark green dots as pupils. "… Sister's not happy either, I would-" He paused again before baring his teeth.

The air-mirror shooed at Red and the Wolf as the ground beneath them began to shake, "I would step back if I were you."

Stumbling back, straining to keep their balance as the earthquake continued its angry rumbling, Red and the Wolf cast fearful glances at each other. Everything had gone topsy-turvy in the matter of seconds!

The dull bawl of tortured horses echoed out from the trees before five fully-armored guards, each armed with a glaive, pounded past at a distance. The mirrors glowered at them, ready to bite and to shred should the soldiers turn towards them.

The ground gave an extremely angry shake, and Red squeaked as a crack split the snow and dirt at her side. Racing forward, issuing cracks as it cleaved rocks in two and tore tree from root, it arced towards the soldiers, widening as it went.

The soldiers' horses bucked and froze as the crack cut them off, but the guards on their back swore angrily, turned their horses, and started their gallop again, intent on rounding the crack and continuing on their death-hunt.

They headed straight towards the mirrors, the Wolf, and Red.

The captain, the guard leading as a colored piece of cloth fluttered wildly at his shoulder, saw them first. Through his metal mouth-visor came the muffled hiss, and, instantly, all glaives were hung down, ready to loop up and strike off limbs and heads if need be.

The air-mirror rumbled happily, "We get to fight, brother!"

Glaring at his brother, the water-mirror giggled sarcastically, "Oh joy. We get to _fight_. That's absolutely _wonderful_."

The air-mirror's eye grew a brilliant gold before the translucent circle that was his head parted across the middle, revealing triangular teeth that constantly shifted in the cloudy gums that held them. A fetid stench, like that of rotting meat, rolled out.

Red cringed as he turned his yellow eye towards her and grinned wickedly, "I would run, morsel. This group won't get through us, but what happens afterwards might."

The Wolf gawped before turning, eyes bright and alert, "There's more?"

"Not ex -" The air-mirror's voice cracked as a glaive's silver point sprouted through his chest, his cloudy flesh parting to allow it passage. Turning the yellow eye down as the guard's horse froze, its muzzle inches away from his waist, he grinned maliciously before grabbing the tip and yanking it forward.

The soldier screeched as the glaive was viciously jerked from his hands.

The shrill sound seemed to be a trumpet issued to signal the beginning of a battle. Instantly, the water-mirror ducked under a swiping blade that had been aimed at his head before lunging forward, plunging his suddenly abnormally sharp fingers towards the soldier's leg. The armor cracked under the fingers, and the digits slid down into the flesh. Immediately, the mirror dragged the howling guard from his steed and threw him away without a second glance.

The air-mirror rounded upon the guard who had tried to dispatch of him, his outlines growing erratic as he chuckled, "You'll need more than five to take two of us on!" He snatched forward, grabbing the guard's head, and forcing some of the black gas that made him down into the soldier's lungs.

The soldier choked, his gauntleted hands reaching up to tear at his throat as the air-mirror snatched his hand back. Foam made of spittle formed at the edges of his lips before black liquid trickled down his chin. The guard gave one last jerk before slumping down over his horse's neck. The animal itself was frozen in terror, wide, brown eyes staring up at the ominous person made of swirling air before it.

The water-mirror swirled, grabbed the horse's reins, and tugged it towards the Wolf and Red as the air-mirror shuddered, his outlines suddenly very bold. Thrusting the ropes into the Wolf's hands, he snarled, "Take both of yourselves away from here! Now! Head anywhere! And if he gets you, ask him questions!"

The Wolf stared at the reins in his hands before deciding not to ask any questions, nodding, quickly pushing the dead guard from the saddle, and hauling Red up. Leaping up behind her, he jammed his knees into the horse's side.

Startled by the sudden irritation, the horse snapped out of its frozen, horrified state and raced forward, whickering fearfully.

The air-mirror stiffened, his shoulders hunching, before turning to glower after them. Slowly, his white eye slid open besides his yellow one, and his breaths grew raspy and shallow.

The three remaining guards paced upon their horses at a safe distance, regarding these two monsters that had killed their two companions so easily. If their eyes had been visible under their visors of steel and iron, all that would have been in them would have been fear and hesitation.

The air-mirror's white eye rolled in its cloudy socket to peer at the guards before returning to the fleeing Wolf and Red. Slowly, he began to turn.

The water-mirror hissed, "Don't you dare, brother! Stay and fight! Remember, those two are friends!"

A yellow eye rolling to meet the enraged black ones of his brother, the air-mirror paused before grinning darkly, "There's only three bad people."

Suddenly, the water-mirror found himself being thrown back through the air, his chest one large area of pain and hurt from where his brother had backhanded him. Hitting a tree and splattering into hundreds of little droplets, he lay there, dazed and confused as he tried to recollect himself.

The air-mirror laughed before wrenching away, leaving nothing but air in his place.

The guards glanced at each other before hurriedly backing away as the water-mirror wrenched up, absolutely livid.

Meanwhile, Red stared ahead, scared at the horse jolted from side to side. Compared to the gentle motion of Pinocchio's wooden rocking-horse, this was madness! She had been pony rides before at the Hallow's Eve festivals and some spring parties, but never on a rampaging mustang! The Wolf readjusted his hold on the reins over her shoulder, his chin bumping into the back of her head. Leaning up against her, he growled, "Lean forward, will you? It's hard to steer with you pressing me back!"

Red gulped, leaned forward.

Suddenly, the air-mirror fazed into view before them, both of his eyes glowing with ravenous anticipation. The horse, seeing the danger, tried to leap to the side, whickering with horror.

It wasn't quick enough. Snatching out with a clawed hand, the mirror grabbed it by the neck and flipped it over, causing the Wolf and Red to be thrown down into the snow and dirt. With a loud hiss, the mirror lunged forward and buried his teeth deep into the horse's neck.

The horse shuddered before bucking wildly, desperate to be free of the pain; however, the mirror's claws were tight and strong in their grip, and the horse's struggles became weaker and weaker as it lost blood from its cut neck.

It died within a matter of seconds.

Dropping the corpse, the air-mirror licked the blood from its teeth, staring off into space as he burbled at the satisfying taste, and then snapped towards Red and the Wolf as the girl squeaked. Instantly, his eyes brightened.

"Mmm… My morsel and her pet…"

The Wolf grabbed Red and pulled her out of the way as the air-mirror slammed his hand down where she had just been. Hugging her to his chest, he watched in horror as the air-mirror swiveled his bright eyes to him. He chuckled, "Or is it the dog and his pet?"

The mirror leaned forward so he could stare down directly at the Wolf and Red, his eyes glittering like fire as he surveyed them. Finally, he snapped his teeth together happily, "Give me my morsel, dog, and I won't eat you."

The Wolf clutched at Red defensively, "You can't have her!"

The air-mirror crackled his displeasure, "I'm not to eat her, remember? I just want," His eyes travelled from the Wolf to Red's pale face, "a thing called a 'morsel'."

The Wolf stared at him, confused.

"Give her to me!" The mirror's patience took a sudden dive.

The Wolf regained his voice, "No!"

"Give her now!"

"No!"

"Give me her or else I will eat your little puppy and you and her all together!" snarled the mirror, his outlines blurring in fury.

The Wolf froze, horrified, and wasn't able to retort.

Seeing the horror on the Wolf's face, the air-mirror clicked his teeth together triumphantly before reaching down, yanking Red from the Wolf's hands. Squawking angrily since he was unable to formulate any words, the Wolf grabbed desperately at her skirt, but missed.

Dragging her back, ignoring her struggles, the air-mirror giggled, "Mm… My morsel… My own little morsel… I caught you all by myself… I didn't have any help from brother… So I won't have to share…" His claws travelled from her arms to her head, where he rested them gently before bending his head down to press his airy cheek against her chest, wanting the hear her heart's upbeat rhythm. "… Are you scared?"

Red squeaked.

Chuckling, the air-mirror pulled his face up to her face, his wide eyes gleaming as he regarded her neck in a hungry fashion, "You are, aren't you?"

Gulping, Red scrunched down her chin so he didn't have such a good view of her neck, nodding in doing so.

She felt something grab ahold of the back of her shirt. Tugging at her, the Wolf snarled at the mirror, "You can't eat her!"

The air-mirror peered over Red's shoulder in annoyance before shooting out a hand and slapping the Wolf away without a difficulty. As the Wolf spiraled back down into the snow, dazed by the hard hit over the head, the mirror returned his attention to Red and cooed, "I'm not going to eat you, morsel… Don't listen to the bad doggie… Just listen to me…" He reached up to brush a claw against her cheek.

"O-o-okay." Stammered Red, frightened to see his teeth bare in a wild grin.

"I need a little sister… The big, bad King killed my last one, and my other one likes to hurt me… I want a new sister… And you're a girl, yes? A little sister… All for me…?" The air-mirror's body fell apart, the mist creeping forward to wrap about Red's torso. "And I don't have to share you with the doggie and my mean brother… Not with _anyone_."

Red shivered before remembering the water-mirror's instructions to 'ask him questions'. "… What… What if I don't want to be your little sister?"

Evidently, not the best question. "…Then you could be my _food_." Grumbled the mirror angrily, his yellow eye dulling to a golden yellow. Leaning forward, he breathed upon her shoulder before inhaling. From his shudder, he was obviously enticed.

Red struggled, failed, and then tried again. "…What if I don't want to be either?"

The mirror blinked before grunting, "Then I can give you to my mean sister and you could be _her_ food. But I would stay and be my meal. Much easier and much better for me." He snapped his jaws at her.

"…Is there another choice?"

The mirror cocked his head, each new inquiry for another choice causing him to have to make another up. "… I can… Hmm… I can… make you my slave…"

"Another choice?"

"Or… Or…" The mirror struggled, no longer dominant and threatening, but meek and struggling for an answer. He felt such a need to give a straight answer! "I can… I … I can send you back home…"

"I choose that one."

The mirror's white eye snapped shut, leaving the yellow one to stare at Red's face with wonder and hunger. He hated it when they took advantage of him like that! "…Mmm... Only for a favor."

Red groaned, "What?"

"You have to give me a home."

Startled, Red stared at him, "What?"

"…I'm tired of being so far away from prey… Give me a home."

"How? Where? I mean, you can't live in my world!"

The mirror chuckled before leaning forward, "Just open your mouth."

Red opened her mouth to growl her retort, but the mirror stopped her, forcing a bit of his cloudy flesh in before disappearing down into her. Gagging as an icy feeling spread across her chest, Red began to cough, trying to rid herself of the invading mirror.

The Wolf's gentle hands found their way to her hand; he had crawled over quickly to try to help, "Are you okay, Red?"

"My… my lungs are cold!" rasped Red, clutching her chest with her hands.

"We'll have to get the other mirror get him-"

The feeling in Red's chest exploded into pain. Crying out, she fell to her knees, hot tears forming at the edges of her eyes.

"I won't tell him! I won't tell him!" snarled the Wolf hastily, grabbing Red's shoulders in his hands.

The pain faded away.

Sobbing, Red slumped against the Wolf's chest, her fingers clutching into the gray fur as her chest slowly banished the remnants of hurt. The Wolf stared down at her, not sure what to do, and then decided to pretend that this was Peter clutching to him, that this was his son sobbing as something inside of him tortured him.

Looping his arms around her, the Wolf began to rock back and forth, blessing her foreheads with little kisses as he caressed her stomach, "No, no… Shh… It's going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay…" He licked her nose with his warm tongue.

Red relaxed slowly under his gentle caresses and his calming tones. Slowly, her eyes opened and sought out his face before she reached up, poked his nose, and accused, "You _licked _me!"

The Wolf was relieved that she hadn't pointed out that he had also _kissed_ her. "I thought it was reassuring enough."

Red regarded him crossly, the small ache in her chest taking away the usual good-nature that would have been there. Finally, she grumbled, "Your breath stinks."

"And you have _dirt_ on your skin." Grunted the Wolf, sticking out his tongue as he returned her insult with another.

Red's eyes lit up before she giggled hoarsely, "Don't I?"The Wolf rolled his eyes, relaxed, "For a moment there, I thought he was going to eat you."

"Still might."

The Wolf glared over Red at the water-mirror, who was picking at his teeth nonchalantly as he tried to dislodge the few strips of bloody meat from in between them. Noticing the glower, the mirror grunted, "What? I told you to keep asking questions, not stop and settle on a deal. It's your problem that my brother is now stuck in her and can now eat her literally _inside-out_." He burped before groaning softly, "Stupid guards… Stupid, stupid guards…"

The Wolf shook his head, showing he wasn't going to respond, and turned to see Red's eyes locked on his face.

"What?"

Red turned her eyes away, "Nothing."

"Why were you looking at me like that?"

"… You… You kissed me too…"

The Wolf groaned. Oh, here they came: the 'do you like me's and 'I think I like you's.


	64. A Mirror Can Be Insane Too, You Know

The Wolf, Red, and the mirror met up with not-Hansel, Irit, and the two little boys on the outskirts of the locust town. The scorpion and the snake had released the goat after much deliberation.

The moment he saw Red, Peter staggered up from his little pile of snow, bounded over, and wrapped his little arms around her happily, "Marie! They said you were in trouble! Are you okay?" He buried his little nose into her shirt before his eyes widened and he sneezed at the sweaty smell. Under his breath, he muttered, "Eew…."

Red smiled at him before stiffening as a little twinge of discomfort erupted in her chest. Hugging Peter back, she muttered, "I'm fine."

"Except she now has my brother of a parasite living in her lungs." Grunted the mirror, crossing his arms.

Not-Hansel and Irit paled, eyes widening. Gulping, not-Hansel stammered, "She's… she's not going to die, is she…? I mean… my original would _strangle_ himself if I returned a dead body to him…"

"So far, brother's been docile. Let's just hope that it'll stay that way." The mirror glanced about before asking, "Where's my little one?"

"… The memory eater?" Irit pointed at a small bump in the snow.

The mirror trooped over, his stiff legs swinging out, before stopping to loom over the little bump. Nudging it with the tip of his toe, he grumbled, "Stop playing hide-and-seek. Come on… Don't you want to be fed?"

The bump shivered before a small cloud of melting slush flew up in the air as the memory eater sat up, his little black eyes wide and curious. Turning his head up, he gazed at the mirror before squeaking happily, reaching up with small, wanting fingers.

The mirror smiled softly, his tenseness disappearing. Bending, he scooped up the memory eater, tickled his chin, and then turned towards the Wolf, "Well, I've a question: What is it with you originals that make it so hard to return you to your world? I've never had this much trouble before with _anything_."

The Wolf glared at him, "If I knew, I would tell you. And I wish that weren't the case. I want to go home, where it's _safer_."

The mirror cooed at the memory eater and then turned narrowed black eyes to the Wolf, "Well, the only options for that to happen now are to either convince my brother to come out of the girl or for you and your family to go through De Lille… Personally, I'm not sure whether I want to do either one."

"De Lille is fine. Their bullets won't hurt me."

"But what about your son and the girl and," The mirror held the memory eater up, "_my_ son?"

The memory eater bubbled unhappily.

"I can go before, clear the way, and Red can bring them through afterwards."

"… Mmm… What a plan. Sounds like everybody's going to be shot at least ten times." Snarked the mirror.

Red felt her chest tighten before she gagged as a rancid smell rose from her throat to waft into her nose. Growling, the air-mirror hissed, "I'll help."

Everybody but the mirror and Peter jumped back in startled fright. Peter stared up at Red's disgusted face, eyes round.

The mirror just locked an angry eye on her and hissed, "Brother, I am so tempted to go into her right now and drag you out."

With an eager hiss, the Wolf asked, "Why don't you?"

"Another question: Do lungs and water mix? _No_."

The air-mirror's smell filled Red's nostrils, causing her nose to run as she screwed up her face, appalled, "I have an idea, brother." His tone was self-satisfied, as if he were the only wise one in a host of fools.

The water-mirror rolled his black eyes, "What?"

"We could take them through a regular mirror."

"Huh?"

"We could eat th-"

"No!" snarled the mirror angrily. "Do you know how dangerous that is?"

Red squeaked as the air-mirror stiffened within her. However, he overcame his moment of surprise and roiled angrily, black spurts of cloud puffing out of Red's mouth, "And not keep them down, brother. Just eat them, keep them in our bellies, and then throw them up on the other side. They might be a little burned and what-not, but they'd still be alive…"

The water-mirror grudgingly nodded, "It's true, but knowing you, I wouldn't give a penny on a bet if you'd actually throw yours up or not… And I'm not sure I'd be able to do so myself. I mean… Once it's down the gullet, it's _mine_." He seemed to falter at the last sentence, licking his lips nervously, and then glanced at the Wolf weakly, as if asking for a denial that he would do such a thing. Almost by instinct, he turned, thrust the memory eater away from him into Irit's hands, as if he didn't want the temptation that came with such a thought.

The air-mirror chuckled loudly as he wafted out of Red's mouth, leaving her to gasp for fresh, clean air. An aimless, black cloud for a few seconds, he finally reformed and clapped his airy hands excitedly, "I will promise upon my mirror, if you want."

Peter gaped before gazing at Red's mouth with wide eyes, as if asking, 'You have monsters inside of you?'

The water-mirror stiffened, staring at him, and then relaxed, "You know what happens if that promise is broken, right?"

"I crack, yes."

"Good… Well, I guess I'll promise upon my mirror too." The water-mirror leaned back, his black eyes inquisitive as they stared up at his tall brother's face. "And it rather surprises me that you swear so readily."

The air-mirror grinned one final time before snapping his jaws shut, the cloudy flesh sealing them shut. "It's only a passing fancy." His white eye slid shut, leaving the yellow one to snap open.

Upon seeing the sly yellow orb, the water-mirror grew suspicious. With an angry snap, he snarled, "To what?"

"To my new house. I have to keep her safe, don't I?"

The water-mirror stared at his brother before groaning, "You still want to _live_ in her?"

"She's just the right temperature for me... and small… and cozy … You know my mirror… It's too large for me to feel comfortable in… I can't recollect myself half the time. " The air-mirror let a note of satisfied sleepiness crawl into his voice. "And it's soft in there… Soft and wet… Perfect humidity… Mmm…." Turning back to Red, he crept towards her, "Girl, let me back in…"

Red glowered at him before pursing her lips and refusing to even grant him an answer.

The mirror's yellow eye blurred to a dark gold as he growled, "_Open_ your mouth. I'm _sleepy_."

The water-mirror hissed, "Don't force her! She doesn't want you, and I don't want you in her either! It's _bad_!"

"Not for me…" crooned the air-mirror, his white eye flickering back as his yellow one disappeared, "And not for her either… I can protect her and she can give me a warm, little house… It's a win-win thing, really. And I'd still visit, don't worry… I just would need to have her swallow a diamond or something of that sorts and take it into my little part of the hou-"

"You can't take a diamond into her lungs, you ninny! There's supposed to be nothing in those lungs but air!"

"… Then I could probably put it in the basement…" said the air-mirror thoughtfully.

"That's her stomach! That's not for diamonds either!"

Behind the water-mirror, Irit and not-Hansel nodded glumly. From their looks, they were obviously not happy to be in on this conversation where the subject was the domination of the girl they both had reason to protect.

"… Then she could just wear it…" grumbled the air-mirror, obviously dismayed that his ideas had been so viciously put-down.

"Yes, but I don't want her to even do that! I don't want her to have to do that just so you could live in her like some low-down parasite!"

"…But I'm not going to leech off of her or anything…" whined the air-mirror, "I'm just going to live there. I won't do any harm. I'll even eat the flus and the pneumonias if it comes to it."

Here, the water-mirror paused, digesting his brother's words, and then growled, "Don't make me call sister on you."

Shrugging with a small, satisfied chuckle, the air-mirror turned back to Red, reaching out for her, "I'm the loved one in the family; sister would only beat _you _up."

"Not if I tell her what a bad brother you've been."

"… Oh, she loves me more than to take your word for that." The air-mirror stopped, glanced back at his brother as he slumped. "But I can't believe you're threatening me on such a small thing, brother."

"It is not a _small_ thing!" snarled the water-mirror. Irit and not-Hansel echoed their agreement.

The air-mirror glowered at his brother, his white eye closing to allow the yellow one to slide open again. Finally, after much internal debating whether to march over and engage his brother in a physical fight or not, he swirled around, stomped to Red, and hissed, "Open your mouth!"

Irit and not-Hansel looked absolutely _miserable_.

Red could feel Peter's hand clutch at the dirty cloth of her back as he twisted to look at the monster who towered behind him. She shook her head, giving the mirror a dirty glare.

With a hate-filled and annoyed growl, the air-mirror reached forward, grabbed the loose fur on the back of Peter's neck, and yanked him from Red's grasp.

Instantly, the Wolf and Red were bristling, enraged. The Wolf snarled, "Put him down!"

The air-mirror held Peter up to his face, yellow eye furious and jealous. Disregarding the Wolf's command, he rumbled, "Stop distracting my home from me. She's _my_ property now."

Peter stared at the yellow orb that regarded him with such annoyed anger before shivering violently, bringing his hands up to his face, bringing his knees up in a protective gesture, and sobbing in fear, "P-p-papa…"

The tears of fright that started to run down Peter's face excited the air-mirror, whose outlines blurred and whose eye brightened as he shuddered. After a few moments of gazing at the water drops, he dropped Peter down into the snow, stepped over him, and snatched at Red, "Come here!"

Red backed away, wanting to rush over to the frightened Peter but unable to do so due to the black, wafting creature in front of her. She shook her head again.

"Fine then!" The mirror paused before turning around, scooping up Peter again with one hand, and regarding him with a yellow eye again before chuckling softly, opening his white eye. His yellow eye did not close.

Instantly, the water-mirror lunged forward, "Don't you da-"

With his free hand, the air-mirror swatted angrily as his brother, sending the smaller mirror crashing back. Jerking to see the Wolf start forward in absolute lividness, he laughed harshly, sprinted for not-Hansel and Irit.

Before either of the two could react, the mirror had bowled them over. Reaching back, he scooped up the wailing memory eater, cradling him in one widening hand, and ran for it.

The water-mirror leapt up, horrified, "Brother!"

Red stared after the fast-disappearing monster and the two abducted children before gawping as a gray form rocketed after them: the Wolf, on all fours, teeth bared, eyes dark with rage. She opened her mouth, about to call after him, but all that came was a squeak as the water-mirror grabbed her by the middle, clamped her to his chest, and snarled, "My heavens, he's obsessed with you, girl!"

Suddenly, the scene wrenched around them, and Red found herself wanting to vomit before they came to a violent halt. In front of them was the air-mirror, racing towards them with both Peter and the memory eater clutched in his large claws.

Seeing his bristling brother in front of him, the air-mirror snarled, came to the stop as he hissed, "Force the girl's mouth open for me and I'll give you back the two precious brats!"

The water-mirror's eyes were hard, the black irises glowing around a pinprick of furious red as their owner howled, "No! Give him back to me, brother! He is only mud and sticks, too innocent to be involved!" His hands trembled where they touched Red's sides.

The air-mirror's face parted, revealing the sharp, moving teeth once more, "Well then… I guess it's down the hatch for him." Holding up the memory eater, he opened his jaws wide, a long, black tongue extending and curling as he as he brought the memory eater towards his mouth.

Without a warning, the air-mirror's chest exploded, dark clouds of airy flesh parting as the Wolf lunged through, arms outstretched, and knocked both Peter and the baby memory eater from the monster's grasp. Surprised, the air-mirror stared down at his scattered torso as the Wolf, Peter, and the baby fell to the slushy snow, sending flurries of snow up, before snarling and reaching for the scrambling Wolf.

The water-mirror dropped Red and ran forward, his form twisting into a much taller version of him. With a cry of rage, he tackled his brother around the middle, strings of water sprouting from his arms and his torso to stab up at the other mirror's eyes.

The air-mirror jerked backwards, the sharp threads of liquid barely missing his bright and insane eyes. With a roar, he fell back onto his back, twisted to get his solidifying legs under his brother, and then viciously shoved out to send the water-mirror over his head and flying.

A long thread of water snaked out, wrapped around a nearby tree trunk, and then thickened as it grew taut, bringing the water-mirror's 'flight' to a jolting stop. Falling to the ground, he growled in anger, scrambled up, and then raced for the other mirror as he floated up.

The air-mirror squawked his displeasure as his brother tackled him yet again, throwing him to the ground, and responded with a quick snap around his opponent's forearm. Instantly, they were rolling on the ground, resorting to sharp teeth and claws as they scratched, bit, howled, and snarled. The air-mirror was almost completely solid now, his matter condensing to an almost solid black, which made distinguishing his blood from his skin a most difficult matter for the horrified on-lookers.

The Wolf grabbed up the screeching memory eater and the semi-conscious Peter, dragged them back, and then whispered hastily to Red, "Help me get them out of here."

Red nodded, grabbed up the memory eater.

An awful yowl of pain rose from the two fighting mirrors as the water-mirror stabbed his claws deep into the air-mirror's eyes. Struggling violently, the hurt mirror threw his brother from him, scrabbled up, and lumbered towards the four onlookers, choking back tears as the black blood from his wounds dripped down into the snow. He staggered past them blindly before crouching down and howling, "You're the meanest brother in the world! I hate you! You blinded me! I hate you, you bloody murderer!"

The water-mirror sat up, his teeth black with blood, "Look who's talking, you weak parasite!"

"Parasite?" The air-mirror stiffened before uncapping his head so he could turn it back towards the voice of his brother; the eyes were dull and bleeding black, grotesque in an already disturbing face. Below the ruined eyes, the jaw worked silently before his words finally came, full of fury and extreme dislike, "I'll show you parasite!"

Before the onlookers could react, the air-mirror swung out a long hand, catching the Wolf in the chest. With a screech, the Wolf dropped Peter to fight against the sharp claws as they closed around him, pulling him towards the monster.

Red squeaked, hurriedly put down the memory eater, and grabbed the Wolf's tail in both hands, tugging back towards her in an effort to pull him from the mirror's grasp.

The Wolf's yelps of horror dropped to momentary silence before being replaced by howls of pain, but these too were cut off when the air-mirror, dragging him close enough, buried his teeth into the Wolf's side.

Instantly, the air-mirror blurred, the black particles that made him forcing themselves into the cuts his teeth had made as the Wolf struggled vainly and screeched his agony. Within seconds, the mirror was completely gone, vanished into the Wolf.

The water-mirror gaped, completely taken by surprise, before snarling, leaping up, and starting over, "Brother, I am seriously going to kill you if you even_ think_ about-"

The Wolf trembled before suddenly screaming, cutting off the mirror, his hands clutching his chest before he fell to his knees, twitching and crying as the air-mirror invaded his system.

The water-mirror reached the Wolf, reached down, grabbed his forearm, and hauled him up. With a vicious hiss, he snarled, "Brother! Out of him now!"

Suddenly, the Wolf's eyes went wide, and he began to choke, froth rimming his mouth as he struggled for air. Immediately, the water-mirror dropped him, backed away. Red thought she was seeing things when she saw bumps move under the Wolf's skin, noticeable even through the fur. However, she shrieked in horrified surprise when a large tear cut the fur around his middle.

The Wolf tried to scream, but whatever was in his throat muffled it. As rips began to tear his fur apart, the muscle exposed under the cuts, he sobbed and choked, tortured and pained.

The water-mirror's face paled to a shade the same color as snow, a color that almost matched his frosted hair. His dark eyes stared at the writhing Wolf before he bit his lips nervously, jerked a hand at Red to say 'Get back'.

As if on cue, the Wolf's visible muscles contracted, black surging across them as the air-mirror infected them, before suddenly expanding. The Wolf fainted, choking one last time before falling into unconsciousness, as the pain that accompanied the stretching of his muscles streamed upwards to his brain. However, he stayed upright, his legs held steady by the invisible control of the air-mirror.

As Red watched, unable to move, the Wolf grew taller, the air-mirror forcing the muscles to stretch and adding himself in the gaps. At the faint animal's fingertips, long spikes of black shoved out the second knuckles, curling to become longer and deadlier claws. Behind him, his tail stiffened before the same spikes jolted out of his skin, lengthening the appendage with fake, black, and iron fur. His loose pants ripped at the sides, threatening to fall.

Suddenly, the Wolf's eyes opened, one yellow, one white. Rolling in their sockets as the air-mirror adjusted his hold upon the Wolf, they finally settled, the pupils dilating until they were just pinpricks. The Wolf's lips raised, showing sharp, yellowing teeth as he grinned wildly. The air-mirror's hoarse voice echoed out from his throat, "Can't hit me now without hurting him, brother…"

The water-mirror squawked indignantly as the air-mirror charged at him, the last of the spikes sprouting from the back of the Wolf's heads as he snarled. Scrambling back, he ducked under a furious swipe from the long, lethal claws, and then wrenched away, reappearing behind his brother. With a growl, he tackled him down from behind before shrieking as he realized he had leapt upon the sharp spines.

Snapping about, the air-mirror snapped the Wolf's teeth down upon his brother's shoulder, hissing.

Furious, the water-mirror punched him across the face, disregarding the fact that it was also the Wolf he was hitting.

A yelp split the air, and the monster staggered back, clutching his muzzle. His eyes flickered before dulling to their usual milky gray color, and the Wolf whimpered, "Wha…? Why does…?" He glanced down, so the state of himself, and then squeaked as the air-mirror seized control again.

Eyes turning back to their bright white and yellow, the air-mirror jeered, "Hopeless, aren't you, brother? You know you can't beat me! I make half of you as it is!"

"Shut up!" snarled the water-mirror, his arms twisting into sharp points, "And you think that I'll stop just because you cower behind someone else's skin? I'll tear you out of his stomach!"

The Wolf's face darkened as the air-mirror growled, "We'll see about that!" He lunged forward, sharp jaws snapping.

The water-mirror waited, eyes glazed with cold hatred, until his brother was only a few feet away. With a sudden hiss, he lunged forward, ducked under the snatching claws, grabbed the Wolf's distended and ripped knees, and, throwing him off-balance, swung him around before letting him go to watch him fly through the air and smack against a tree.

The air-mirror groaned after a moment of dazed confusion, retreating to let the Wolf take over again. Blinking as tears sprouted from his eyes, the Wolf sobbed, "Good heavens, make him stop! It hurts!"

The water-mirror stalked towards him, "Out of him, parasite, and I might let you go back to your mirror!"

A cloudy spurt rose from one of the cuts before an angry voice growled, "Just wait till I get used to this body and I'll eat your head!"

The Wolf stared at the dark cloud before scratching at the cut, whimpering, "Get him out! Get him out! He's eating my insides!" He cringed in pain.

Glowering down at him with stony eyes, the water-mirror stood silent for a moment before grinning maliciously, "Wolf, this is going to hurt."

"Wha-"

Without a warning, the water-mirror stabbed one of his sharp arms forward.

Squeaking, the Wolf turned his milky eyes slowly down to his chest, where the 'sword' had entered. His eyes widened before he turned betrayed eyes back up to the water-mirror.

The water-mirror licked his lips nervously before leaning forward, the fluid that made him forcing into the wound.

The Wolf began to immediately shake and whimper as his eyes flickered, the air-mirror essaying to take over once more. However, when he finally grabbed hold, it was too late; the water-mirror had already disappeared into the wound.

"Brother! Get out! There's not enough room! This is my- Don't touch-" The air-mirror's voice choked off as the water-mirror seized the upper part of his torso, freezing the lungs with his ice-cold touch.

The Wolf began to gag, trying to breathe.

Red could see the clearish tint of the water fighting against the black through the tears and rips in the Wolf's fur.

The Wolf's lungs unfroze, and took a long rattling gasp before gagging, leaning forward, and vomiting black and clear liquid onto the snow in front of him. Red stared before registering little claws digging into her leg. Glancing down, she saw Peter trembling around her leg, eyes filled with tears. In his lap was the memory eater, whose eyes could only be described as little, round black saucers.

"What's… what's happening to Papa?" sobbed Peter.

At Peter's voice, the Wolf's head jerked towards them before his eyes turned to a lemony yellow and white. Momentarily seizing control, the air-mirror forced himself up, teeth bared. He growled, started towards the three.

With an audible hiss, the water-mirrror rushed to the Wolf's knees.

The air-mirror fell, knees stiff and unyielding. Momentarily stunned by the unexpected fall, the air-mirror yielded his control back to the Wolf before screeching, "Get out! I was here first! This is _mine_! I don't want to sh-"

Suddenly, an angry black poof spurted from a rip. Instantly, it tried to shove itself back in, but a little water thread reared up out of the wound before flattening and hardening, forming a hard bandage and shield.

Red watched in surprised, curious hope as small clouds were ejected from the rips, the water-mirror forcing his brother out one small part at a time and creating a liquid shield over the rips and gashes to prevent the black particles from reentering.

Humming in fury, the cloud grew increasingly erratic in its flight patterns, becoming more and more spread apart as it flocked around the Wolf, trying to find an entrance to enter the bloodstream by. However, the water-mirrror blocked him at every gash, every wound, squashing the air-mirror's selfish attempt.

Finally, the black's buzzing faded, and the clouds clumped back into the sulking form of the air-mirror. Shoulders sloped downwards, he sobbed dryly, "Brother… You stole it… Give it back…"

"No, I'm not giving back your eye until you _behave_." Hissed the water-mirror, retreating back into the bowels of the Wolf as he started to mend torn muscles and burst capillaries. "My heavens, what you did to him! What were you hoping to do? Kill him?"

The Wolf stiffened before relaxing as a sense of euphoria washed over him. Relaxing, he moaned, "Oh, that feels good…"

"That's because I'm fixing you." Grumbled the water-mirror.

"Give me back my eye!" yowled the air-mirror, his white eye open and blazing with yearning want, "You stole it! I want it back… Give me it back…" His voice trembled, as if he were about to start crying.

"No, for two reasons: One, you won't be able to be a stupid brat; and, two, you won't be able to reform completely, which means… I can still beat you up proper, should I have to. I could just eat this eye…" The mirror chuckled.

From the air-mirror's twitch, the water-mirror had obviously hit an nerve. "Please… please don't do that, brother… I change my mind… You can have the morsel… I just want my _eye_…" He sobbed dryly.

The Wolf stared at the hunched, airy figure before his head suddenly lolled back. Surprised, he blinked a couple of times before grumbling, "What are you doing in there?"

"I already told you… I'm fixing you… Now shut up… I've just had to shut down your spine for a moment, with all of your little twitches and… Hmm… Let's see…"

"Brother!"

"Shut up! I'm trying to fix the mess you made, you air-head!"

The air-mirror shrunk to a small cloud, approximately the size of a dog, and groveled against the ground as a mist. The sounds of choked sobbing rose from the little ball of black air. Red stared before hearing a small wheeze from Peter. Glancing down, she bit her lip when she saw him, trembling violently, eyes dripping tears, and his mouth working as no words came out. Finally, two cracked syllables made it out:

"P… Papa…"

* * *

**OOC: Urmph... I swear this story will end soon... This is the final 'air mirror' conflict chapter, pretty much... From now on... We need to get out of this demented mirror world! RARGH!**


	65. Final Confrontation Part One

The King slouched on his saddle, grumbling loudly as his disguise's ears twitched. He had had the castle's mirror-makers make him a new mirror-band so he could accompany an escort of guards on their hunt for those _fugitives_, those who _dared_ go against his wishes. But this mirror-band felt too small, for some reason, crushing, suffocating, and uncomfortable! He just wanted to find what was rightfully his, his little spiderling and his original, and hurry home to take off the annoying thing.

Not that they were having any luck in their search so far…

The King hadn't remembered how easily distracted the guards were. At a fast trot, they were fine, focused on keeping the horse underneath them moving in a straight and unwavering line; however, when they were moving at anything slower, they would let their minds and eyes water, drooling after every bird and making lewd remarks to each other. Mating season was coming, and the guards seemed to be all expecting a time off to leave for their homes and find a perfect girl.

Growling sourly, the King shrugged yet another overheard remark before raising annoyed eyes and snarling, "Shut up, the lot of you!"

The guards' mouths snapped shut. They knew the King became touchy on the subject of mates.

"… Thank you." He snorted gruffly before urging his horse into a faster trot.

Behind him, where he could not see, the guards smiled mischievously. The one to the left smiled before suddenly frowning, hurriedly shaking his head, but the one on the right was already asking, "Sir? You going to get mated this year?"

The King stiffened, and the horse did the same under him. Slowly, he twisted around, eyes wide, "Mated?" How he hated that word! So crude... Couldn't they use the word 'marry', like the originals and _try_ to be refined?

"It's mating season just around the corner, sir… Just wondering." The guard hesitated. "I mean, if we want to keep ourselves in charge, we need an heir for the-"

"No." The King whirled around, hurriedly trotted his horse forward, humiliated. How dare they ask him that? An heir? He could not produce an heir yet! It just wasn't the time!

"Something on your mind…?" whispered a small voice.

The King blinked before letting his disguise's eyes roll up towards his forehead, where he had always envisioned the mirror-band to be if it had been visible. "Hmm…? Which mirror are you?"

"The other sister." Lilted the voice, slightly annoyed.

"Ah… You are not… angry about your sister, are you?"

"… I am." Moaned the earth-mirror, her voice resonating the mirror-band and making the King's disguise flicker. "But, at the moment, I cannot dwell on that. She's dead, and the brothers are still alive, hurting each other… But I heard you were to kill us all… This is not true, is it, dear king? I am with you… Would you kill me so readily and lose all that I have to offer?"

The King bit his lip before shaking his head, "But the water and the air must. They don't respect their duties. They may also be _traitors_. Traitors _must_ die."

"Mm-hmm… Leave the air-mirror… He is the littlest; he can made to change his mind… Do what you want to water though… He's an incompetent buffoon and a weak one at that. I still hate him."

The King blinked before groaning. He had remembered the months before when the earth-mirror and the water-mirror had begun a fierce battle, venturing from their mountain-side and lake-side caves and drowning half the forest in mud and dust, destroying vast amounts of prey and vegetation in the midst of their blows. They had finally parted when the fire-mirror, tired of the fight, had snaked out from the castle to bake the mud to clay and evaporate what water she could. The two mirrors could have easily beaten her, but both had been weakened in their fight, and had so left with hate residing in their hearts.

The mirror-band vibrated again as the earth-mirror oozed, "Harsh memories?"

"… No." snapped the King.

"Want to know where your little girl affection is?"

The King's disguise's eyes narrowed, "I do not have affection for her."

"Oh no…" drawled the earth-mirror, coughing out dust through the mirror-band; it ended up coming out of the King's disguise's ears. "You just want to keep her _forever_ and _forever_… You know… that reason of 'I only want her as an advisor' will soon change to 'I only want her as a friend' and will finally turn to 'I only want her as a wife'… I've seen the cycle …"

"Ah, shut up!" snarled the King, more loudly than he intended. Behind him, the guards sat up straight, startled.

"Sir?" they chorused.

Furious, the King glared back before hissing, "All of you: what would you do if I decided I wanted to marry with an original?"

The guards' faces, exposed by their open visors, paled to an ashen gray before one squeaked, "Si... Sire… That's… that's…"

"… Untraditional and disgusting…" finished another guard, appearing to be on the verge of vomiting.

"See?" snarled the King, directing this to the quiet earth-mirror. "Even if I _wanted_ to, I don't think my own guards would let me!"

With a satisfied tone to her voice, the mirror drawled, "Mm… That wouldn't stop me if I were you… I mean, you are _the King._"

"Well, you're not me! _I_ am me! Not you! Not anybody else! And the girl is my _pet_, mind you, not my advisor!"

"…Ah… That sounds even more delightful… Marrying with a pet."

"Gah! Get out of my mirror-band, you lewd creature!" The King swatted angrily at his head.

"You don't want to know where your 'future wife' will be?" said the earth-mirror jokingly.

"Shut up about that 'marrying' stuff! And, yes, I would like to know!"

For the next few minutes, the guards watched silently as their King talked obliviously into the air, the mirror's voice too soft for them to hear. Underneath the monarch, the mustang turned uneasily in circles, making the King seem uncertain and mad, forever indecisive and forever insane.

Finally, the King smiled wickedly at his guards, chilling their blood as a dark light entered his eyes, "I know where they are."

* * *

Peter hadn't released Red's skirt, whimpering and cringing whenever anyone else than his 'Marie' touched him. Apparently, watching his father turn into a monster had scared him beyond compare. Not-Hansel and Irit had caught up, red in the face, angry, and fearful. When they saw that Red was okay, they relaxed, but they were still tense, watching the small, cowering, black figure of the air-mirror across the clearing as it cried for its eye. 

"Peter…" Red tugged at his ear, trying to pull him off of her. "You should go hug your papa…"

Peter only gripped her skirt tighter, screwing his eyes shut.

Red sighed, glanced over at the Wolf. The water-mirror was still trying to 'fix' him, but seemed to be having the most horrible time shrinking down the distended and somewhat-repaired but still ripped muscles to normal size. He hadn't even gotten around to the ripped fur yet. "I'm… I'm sorry."

Sighing, the Wolf flopped back into the snow, moaning softly, "It's alright… He has all the reason to be afraid…" He scratched at his chest before reaching to pull his pants up a few centimeters. With the added three feet to his already seven foot frame, the pants had been transformed almost into trousers, too small for him in an almost disturbing way.

The memory eater popped up out of the snow next to his head, where he had been playing hide-and-seek again. Eyes wide and curious, he pulled himself to the side of the Wolf's face, grabbed a fistful of gray fur, and tugged at it with a little, friendly whine.

"Hmm…" The Wolf turned his head before smiling at him, milky eyes scrunching up in happiness, "You're not scared, are you?"

The memory eater hiccupped before leaning forward and sucking at the tip of the Wolf's nose, oblivious to the fact that it was not food.

The Wolf smiled as he started chuckle, but the laugh was cut short when he stiffened, coughing up some water. Grunting in annoyance, a smaller version of the water-mirror, only about four feet tall, rose up, "Break time. Come here, you little one!" He caught up the memory eater, cuddled him happily, and then twisted his hand into a bottle, full of black, muddy fluid.

The memory eater nipped at the bottle's nib happily before starting to guzzle down what he could.

Red felt Peter's small hands loosen a bit, glanced down to see Peter's eyes open to slits, his head warily turned to the side as he peered at his father and his new baby brother with an eye. Gulping, he leaned back into her and whispered, "… It's papa, right…? Not the monster anymore…?"

"Yes, it's 'papa'."

Peter's eyes watered before he sniffled into her skirt, "Why is Papa hurt, Marie…?"

With a small grunt, Irit quipped, "Because some _mirror_ was selfish enough to force himself upon him."

Peter stared around Red's side at the disguised scorpion before burying his face back into her dress, "But… But I don't want Papa to be hurt…"

"You should go hug him. That'll make him better."

Peter turned his head slightly to the side again, watching the Wolf's prone form again with a hesitant, bright eye, "But… He's too big for me to hug…"

"Then go kiss him."

"…What if the monster goes back in and he bites me?"

"He won't." sighed Red before striding forward, pushing Peter gently backwards towards the Wolf.

Peter squeaked softly, his fingers tightening around his little fistfuls of cloth, before whispering, "Are you sure…? Will you come over with me…?"

"Yes."

Peter's ears perked up from their laid-back positions before he let one hand travel from her skirt to her hand. Wrapping around two of her fingers, the small, soft gray hand tugged at her as he made a slow start towards the Wolf.

The Wolf's eyes followed them, glittering in their whitish-gray way. As they approached, he smiled gently, "Hello, Peter… Finally decided to come get a hug?" He reached out with a paw.

Peter flinched, groveling away the hand and into Red's skirt. Red couldn't blame him; the hand's knuckles were exposed, the fur ripped about them, and the fingers themselves were disgustingly long from the air-mirror's tampering. The Wolf grew silent, miserable that his son was now frightened of him. Red bit her lip, started forward again. Peter made no sounds, hiding his face in the dirty cloth of her skirt.

He only squeaked when the back of his leg pressed against his father's side. Eyes rising, he stared over his shoulder, looking at the mangy fur before sniffling suddenly, bursting into tears, and, releasing his hold of Red's skirt, turning to clench his hands into the Wolf's fur and bury his face into his side.

The Wolf immediately curled up around him, cooing worriedly, "No, no, Peter… Don't cry… It's okay, it's okay…" One of the deformed hands brushed across Peter's head.

Peter's eyes were screwed shut as his fingers trembled around his father's fur; however, tears still found their way out. "P-p-papa… I don't want you to get hurt… G-g-get better… Papa…" He wiped his streaming nose against the strands of gray hair.

The Wolf moaned, took Peter into his arms, and then hugged him gently to his chest, "I will, Peter… Just stop crying please… It's okay…"

Peter refused to open his eyes, sobbing loudly.

The water-mirror blinked, turned around to watch the father and son for a moment, and then glanced down at the memory eater in surprise. Finally, with a tired growl, he marched over to Irit and not-Hansel, held the little puppy out, "Tell me, do originals always fuss over their children so?"

Irit stared down at the child-sized version of the mirror as he took the memory eater, but not-Hansel coughed hesitantly before answering slowly, "… Well… I kind of do it too…"

The mirror's face darkened in a not-so-well-hidden fury before he quickly reached up, brushed a hand through his wet, slicked-back white hair, and regained his usual alert calmness. With a tone of resentment, he grunted, "I'm somewhat jealous." He stood still for a moment, contemplating, and then moaned before turning, stomping back towards the Wolf, "Hmm… I'm back."

The Wolf cast a quick glance to him before turning his attention back to the still-sobbing Peter.

The water-mirror started forward, but then froze when he felt a small tug on his pant leg. Glancing down, he growled at his brother, "No, I'm not giving you back your eye."

Cowering, the air-mirror roiled as a mist around his brother's ankles, "No… Not about that… It's sister…"

"What about sister?" The water-mirror's eyes flashed in suspicion.

"She's told them…" moaned the air-mirror. "She just told me to leave…"

"Told you to…" The water-mirror's face darkened and some of the slush at his feet evaporated into him, making him taller before he held out a hand, "Diamond."

The air-mirror clenched into his small and fuzzy form before hacking loudly and coughing up a diamond, moaning. Not-Hansel blinked, felt at his pocket, and then reddened, realizing that the mirror had pick-pocketed him sometime before.

The water-mirror bent to grab it up. Holding it up to the light, he twirled it around between two fingers before snapping, "Why the heck did you tell them?"

The only response was a spurt of dust that flew from the diamond, taking the place of an annoyed huff.

With an angry growl, the water-mirror directed at not-Hansel, "Let me see your mirror again?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah." Not-Hansel dug it out of his opposite pocket, held it out.

Red watched in curiosity as the mirror took it, held the diamond up before it, and then sniffed dryly, "The King… with thirty soldiers? Hmm… Sister, but that's not going to do much."

The light caught the mirror's edge, reflecting a shaft of light back onto the water-mirror. Red squeaked when she saw the cloth and skin vanish where the reflected light hit, and the water-mirror hastily tilted it another way, resuming his garments before what was beneath could be seen. After watching Red with a cautious eye for a moment, trying to see if she had spied anything, he spoke into the mirror, "Sister? Did you hear me?"

"…They have that one kind of shield, brother." Wheezed the air-mirror.

Suddenly, an enraged voice cut out of the diamond, "Little brother! You're not supposed to tell him!"

Not-Hansel gaped before hissing, "You mean those dark shields? Those were locked up a long time ago in the King's treasur-" He stopped, blinking.

"…Yes." Moaned the air-mirror, misting over to not-Hansel.

"What are those?" asked Red.

"Shields that absorb light." The water-mirror's eyes had developed pinpricks of brilliant turquoise in their center. "And, frankly, they sort of disrupt our disguises if we touch them, since we're just reflecting light to make this disguise."

"…What?"

"Too much light or too much absence of light totally destroys an image. These shields act upon the latter and it allows them to cause us physical damage which we could usually repair."

Not-Hansel's lips were set in a grim line, eyes cold with annoyance. "And they killed the last four general mirrors with them too. That's what set off this whole miserable existence of predation and killing, with all the droughts and famines and those horrible diseases that spawned from the stagnant-" He paused, biting his lip as if he had already said too much, and then whispered slowly, "... They're going to do it again? What's it going to do this time? I know it closed off everything from the original world last time and destroyed our food-fields... I don't think this world can suffer more deaths of your kind. You're the regulators."

The water-mirror shot a poisonous glare at him, a sarcastic drawl escaping his lips, "Oh yes, I regulate your water so that every drink you take doesn't have worms and maggot eggs in it... I _so _enjoy doing it, too..." He pursed his lips, "But someone must do it, and I was volunteered. So... Yes. Let's not talk about my death." He turned his eyes back to the diamond before cocking his head, "But are you sure that they are dark-shields? It would be rather bold even for them to bring them out again after the disruption it made in all the reflections last time."

Seeing Red's curious eyes, Irit mouthed, "Another thing it does."

"Can I demonstrate how I know it _is_ one?" came the earth-mirror's faking sweet voice from the diamond.

"Huh? What do you-"

Something thin, sharp, and black thrust out of the diamond, spearing the water-mirror's neck.

Instantly, the black-colored shield clattered down upon the head of a small child, who shrieked, thrust the diamond and mirror away, scrabbled back with a howl. "No! No! You can't do that!" His wide, blue eyes glittered with panic as his grayish-blue shirt brushed around his knees. His scruffy white-blond hair stuck up at odd angles, coated with algae. A small cut on his head bled where the shield had fallen upon it.

Everybody but the air-mirror, obviously having seen this before, and Peter, still trembling in the Wolf's arms, gaped at the small child.

Red squeaked, "What?"

The water-mirror stared around him, panicked and trembling, before wheeling around, running to the Wolf, and quickly falling into a puddle so he could retreat back into the wounds. The Wolf stared down at his side, where the water-mirror had disappeared into him.

Silence ruled the clearing for a moment before Irit snarled, "You mean I've been terrified of some six-year-old?"

"No! Don't say that!" came a moaning yowl from the mirror from the rips in the Wolf's fur, "That's why I hate it when I'm like this! Nobody respects me! I'm not _scary_ anymore!"

The Wolf twitched before biting back a yelp as his wounds began to bleed heavily, the water-mirror's agitation breaking open his wounds.

Slowly, not-Hansel turned inquisitive eyes to the air-mirror, "And… you?"

The air-mirror stared up at him, "I'm the little brother, so you can imagine how small I am."

Suddenly, the water that made the water-mirror splashed down from the Wolf's wounds. Reforming into the little boy, red-faced and angry, he sprinted to grab up the shield, which was almost taller than him, and lunged into the diamond, "I'm going to get you for that, sister!"

A startled shriek followed.

* * *

"… Think he'll ever mate?" 

The guard cast a withering glare to his neighbor, "Of course he will… It's just a matter of time, you idiot." He readjusted his hold on the dark-shield on his lap.

"…But what if he doesn't? Who'll take the throne then?"

"The one who killed him, I would guess, but let's not talk about that." The guard bared his teeth through the visor of his helmet before changing the subject, "I wish I could get out of this stupid mirror-band! It's so uncomfortable!"

"… I know…" sighed the other guard, "But it lets us travel faster by horseback, you know…"

The King ignored this idle talk, focused on the dirt road before him. The dark-shield strapped over the haunches of his horse seemed to absorb all glare and harsh light around him, keeping its surface one solid black somehow. With no especially bright light about him to hurt his rather sensitive eyes, he could focus.

At first, when his mirror-band started to vibrate, the King took no notice of it. However, when water began to trickle down out of his ears and screams of anger and hatred registered upon his ears, he blinked, hurriedly jumped down from his horse, and, snarling, pulled the mirror-band off to cast it away. For a few moments, the mirror-band lay there on the slushy ground, twitching upon the ground like a knotted, reflective snake. The guards, having not seen or felt the vibrations, stared at their King, wondering him mad, when, suddenly, two small forms pushed out of the mirror-band.

"I hate you!"

"Gah! I hate you even more! You're the worst big sister in the world, you witch! I'll stab your eyes out! I'll murder you!"

"Not if I do it first, you stupid, little brother!"

The two small children, one white-blond-and-green haired boy and one dusty-haired girl, rolled around in the slush and dirt, punching and kicking the other with angry screams.

Clicking his fangs, flinching under the light that now assaulted his sensitive eyes now that he was away from the dark-mirror, the King snarled, "Guards! Who's there?"

The guards hurriedly dropped from their horses as the two children froze, eyes widening as they saw the King and his escort there.

"Just some children."

"But why did they come out of my he- _mirror-band?_" The King changed his word-choice at the last moment, irritated.

"… No idea, sir."

"Then find out!"

As soon as a guard stepped forward, extending his arms, the girl shoved her brother away, pointed at him, and yowled as she burst into fake tears, "He's a mirror! He kidnapped me! He's going to eat me! Kill him! Kill him!"

"Shut up, you wench!" snarled the little boy back, eyes glittering in betrayed fury, "You're the mirror who should be killed! You're the one who stabbed me!"

The King groaned. Two mirrors standing before him? Or a mirror and a human? How could he know? Mirrors were tricky creatures, always taking different shapes on a whim when they could…

Turning back towards his horse, he moaned, "Someone get my mirror-band… A half of you go through it- I'll go with you-, and the other half… just kill these two. If they're mirrors, they should still present no problem."

Instantly, the closest guard lunged towards the two children, but found himself tackling empty air as they ran and bolted away, incredibly fast.

Immediately, twelve of the guards were on their horses, pounding behind them, hungry-eyed and laughing wickedly.

* * *

**OOC: Hello, everyone! This is only the first part of a _long_ chapter I'm nearly finished with. I should update the second part either tonight or tomorrow, seeing I'm in a race to do so before Saturday, when I am departing for France! Oh no! That means no update for two weeks, but that means a _big_ update at the end of two weeks! Have a good day and make sure not to catch the flu! **


	66. Final Confrontation Part Two

The mock town in the center of the woods, where Red and the Wolf had first met Irit, was brimming with silence except for in a small alley. A small group of locusts who lay in wait in the southern part of the town had caught their second and rather small prey that day.

Holding up a struggling sparrow triumphantly, the locust gave a victorious hoot before squeaking, turning, and running as his two friends turned on him, furious at the selfish sound. Immediately upon his heels, they snapped angrily, their stiff wings crackling as they tried to alight.

"You bloody vain thing! Give us a bite, at least!"

"No! I caught it and I'm hungry! Ah! Get off! Get off!"

The two angry locusts had tackled down their friend in a desperate attempt for a bite of food, but were dismayed when they saw the sparrow flutter out of their friend's hands and wing away. A collective sigh wafted out of the three as they slumped.

"…Ah… That could have been a good bite for all of us…" moaned one, rubbing at his stomach with one of his legs.

"You were the ones that made me let it go, you stiff-wings!"

The hungry one was about to retort when the other rose his foreleg, antenna crooking, and then squeaked excitedly, "People! Posts! Posts!"

Instantly, the three had melted away to their respective shadows, their wings crickling silently against each other as they prepared to watch and possibly ambush these newcomers.

Instants later, the two mirrors sprinted past the first few houses, both red in the face and gagging on their own breaths. It was only moments before wild-looking mustangs with fearsome riders erupted from the trees behind them, yowling as the spirit of the hunt demanded.

Diving into an alley, the two mirrors scrabbled down a little ways before the water-mirror, hair still dripping algae, spotted a hole in the corner of a house, dropped down, and pressed in. The earth-mirror continued, only allowing herself a glare as she ran on.

The hoof-beats stopped, only to be replaced the nasty clinking of armored boots. Even this died away to the soft picks of sharp objects through mud and dirt. The water-mirror stiffened and cowered as dark, black legs stabbed past; the guards had taken off their mirror-bands, reverting back to their original spider forms in order to enjoy the hunt more.

Slowly, these milling and searching legs passed him, and the sound died away, leaving the water-mirror to shiver in the little, black hole. How long was he too be stuck in this useless and disrespected form? He hated it! It couldn't be that long till the dark-shield's disruption of his light faded away, could it?

The water-mirror was viciously jolted from his thoughts as a pukish-yellow colored leg appeared in the mouth of the hole, only to be followed by the grotesque head of the locust. Cocking its antennae, its multi-faceted eyes locking upon it, it quipped chirpily, "Mm… You lost, little one? Want to come out for me and my buddies here?"

The mirror shook his head violently, eyes growing very wide.

Behind the locust, his hind legs were rubbing together in anticipation, making a small chirping sound that made his two comrades rattle with excitement, imitating him with their own music.

"Oh… Come now… We haven't had a little child for such a long time now." The locust poked forward, completely disappearing into the hole.

The other locust waited for a few moments before starting forward, but froze when they heard a disgusting sound from inside, no chirp that their friend could have made. It was a noise similar to that of mud squelching beneath one's foot and the crunch of leaves being crushed under the other in the same step.

"..." Hesitantly, one shuffled forward, peered into the hole.

The water-mirror glared at him, sullen and furious, his liquid self solidifying over the dead cricket. However, the insect was a bit too large for his small form, so three of the legs created spikes, erupting from his side, his shoulder, and his neck.

Chirping out of fright, the locust leapt away, quickly followed by the other, who didn't want to find out what had happened to their friend.

Left at a somewhat uneasy peace one more, the water-mirror grumbled under his breath, reached up, and broke off the annoying leg that poked from his neck. With a dissatisfied grunt, he nibbled at the end of the leg before snapping away the two other legs, and laying down around the three pieces of locust leg as he tried to digest. He hated insects, but the locust had asked for it, trying to bite him like that!

A shadow passed across his hole again, and the water-mirror turned fearful eyes up before seeing it to be only his sister. Instantly, fear turned to anger, "Go away! You're going to lead them here, you idiot!"

"You're the idiot!" hissed the earth-mirror, crawling in and slumping over him as she reached for the three leg parts. "They almost caught me, but they've settled for a locust for the moment… But they're going to keep hunting for us."

"… So when do we change back and then we can hunt _them_?" snarled the water-mirror, clutching the three legs to his chest. He was bloated, but he didn't want to let his pain of a sister have the locust leg parts.

"Don't know." The earth-mirror crawled over. Before the water-mirror could squeak, her knee squashing his head, momentarily making him mute as he struggled, and her hands were stealing the food from his hands. Nimbly falling over him to she could curl up against the farthest wall of the hole, the earth-mirror chewed at the locust parts before grumbling, "And don't you dare bite me."

The water-mirror had turned, mouth open, and had been reaching for her leg. Freezing, he glowered at her before slumping down, putting his head in his arms, and moaning, "Fine… We're useless until this 'don't know' time of yours. It's your fault if we die or if my protégés die… You're a horrible sister, you know that?"

"You've already said that a million times!"

* * *

"Grumph… When is he going to come back and fix me…?" muttered the Wolf, trying to steady himself using a tree. Under him, his distended and ripped legs trembled, the muscles that normally helped him reduced to useless slivers of meat by the air-mirror.

The air-mirror roiled around not-Hansel's mirror, muttering grumpily under his breath. Only minutes before, he had pleaded with the Wolf to let him back into his body, saying 'he would only see if his eye had been left there'.

The Wolf had refused.

Now, he was pulling things through the mirror and throwing them over his shoulder, becoming more and more frantic as the pile of misused odds-and-ends grew higher behind him. The broken heads of dolls, chipped blocks of wood, an occasional battered storybook drew the memory eater like honey drew a fly, and he proceeded to amuse himself with a broken doll as he giggled happily.

"Where is it? Where is it?" hissed the air-mirror, drawing yet another book from the mirror.

Unable to resist, Irit questioned, "Where is all this stuff coming from, may I ask?"

"My mirror… Oh, here it is!" The air-mirror yanked a chipped marble out of the reflective surface of the mirror, held it up admiringly, and then hastily reformed so he could push it into where the empty eye socket would be in his empty flesh. Immediately, he shut his white eye, sat there, blind but happy as the green marble rolled about madly, "Oh, that feels _much_ better." He shut his eyelid over the marble, reopened the white eye, and then saw the memory eater sucking absently at the nose of the broken doll. "Hey!"

The memory eater jerked, jerked from his little daydream, and, dropping the doll, crawled to the air-mirror's side, leaned against him, and sighed, closing his eyes as he curled up.

Red rolled her eyes, strode over, and scooped up the baby, "Sleepyhead."

The memory eater yawned at her before his eyes slid open to satisfied slits. He mewled softly before sneezing directly into her face.

Red balked, disgusted and surprised, and then reached up with one hand to wipe at the slight spray of saliva that covered her cheek.

The clink of broken parts hitting each other distracted her, and she glanced down to see Peter had finally come over to investigate the pile of decimated toys. Picking up a battered storybook, he flipped it open to the first page, glanced at it, and then turned hopeful blue eyes to Red, "Will you read it to me?"

The air-mirror reached over, yanked it from his hands, "That's mine."

Peter stared at him before wilting, "But… You have so many…"

"It's still mine." Replied the air-mirror snootily, seeming to regain some of his old, poisonous confidence with his new, makeshift eye. "And you can't touch it." To emphasize this, he stood, began to shove his broken toys back through the little palm-mirror.

Peter watched him with sad eyes, "I can't even just look at the pictures? Just for a minute?"

"No."

Red glowered at him, as did the Wolf.

Noticing her glare, the air-mirror hesitated before moaning, "I'm cold…"

Instantly, Red was crimson with fury, "No! You're not going back into my lungs!"

The Wolf dropped to all four legs, staggered a few steps forward, and then hissed in annoyance as his back legs locked up, their muscles refusing to respond. Reaching back with his right arm, which seemed to be the limb which hadn't been damaged that must, he knocked at the knees before giving up, dragging himself forward again, stiff and sore. "You can't go back into her, and where is that bloody brother of yours? I can't even _walk_."

"I can help!" The air-mirror switched hungry eyes to him. "Just tell me what to do and I'll do-"

"No. What if that eye is still somewhere… in there… and you turn all evil again?"

"I'm not evil." Fretted the air-mirror before turning, sulkily taking another storybook from Peter, and shoving it through the mirror.

Peter latched an annoyed glower upon him before grabbing a doll's head, throwing it away.

Instantly, the air-mirror froze his cleaning, his single eye widening before he turned, marched stiffly over, took up the doll head, and turned, only to see Peter with another book, curled defensively around it as he looked at the pretty picture on the first page. With a snort, the air-mirror rushed over, grabbed the edge, and tugged at it angrily, "That's mine! I said 'no'!"

Peter squawked, kept his hold upon it.

In Red's arms, the memory eater sniffled softly before violently sneezing again. A small whimper broke from him as he writhed, arms outstretched as he whined for freedom.

Red set him down, took a deep breath, and stormed towards the air-mirror, "Just let Peter read. He'll give it back."

"It's mine! I was the one who had it first! He can't read it!"

Red slapped at him. Where her hand struck his airy flesh, she felt little resistance, her hand passing right through the cloudy matter. She did manage, however, to knock the marble out of its socket.

"Ah! No! My marble!" Howling, the air-mirror leapt after it, forgetting completely about Peter.

The marble passed over the memory eater's head, who stopped to stare at the little green shooting star before giggling and clapping his small hands as the dark figure lunged after it, leaping over him. However, his attention soon returned to the thing he wanted: the diamond laying there, untouched, on the dusty, slushy ground. Reaching for it, he grabbed it up, turned it in his little hands, dazzled by its sparkles, cocked his head when it started to vibrate, dropped to the ground before laughing gaily, delighted with this little game.

The air-mirror, searching desperately for his marble in the mud, froze before hissing, "Get away from that!"

With a whicker, a horse erupted from the diamond, the frightfully familiar rider smiling maliciously as his horse's hooves landed against the ground, one nearly hitting the memory eater's feet. Almost immediately, other horses sprang up, landing besides the King and his steed. The guards atop them drew their swords immediately, dazed but ready to fight. Some of their visors had fallen already from the impact of landing.

For a brief moment, there was naught but silence, everyone surprised, dazed, or both. This quickly passed, however, as the King recovered from his voyage through the diamond.

Leaning forward, eyes narrowed, the King smiled hungrily, his eyes locking upon Red, "Ah… Look who it is… It's my little _pet_… And…" His eyes trailed to Irit and not-Hansel before he frowned angrily, "And… Irit? I'm disappointed… _But you too, lieutenant_?"

Not-Hansel bared his teeth at him, "The girl has to go back!"

"No, she doesn't, and she wo-" The King's eyes flitted to the Wolf widening. After a few moments, he snarled, "What have you done to my original?"

The horse underneath him pawed nervously, its hooves nearly hitting the memory eater.

With a hate-filled snarl, Irit hissed, "_Your_ original? I thought that you were _his_ reflection!"

The King flared with anger, and the guards at his sides urged their horses a step forward, bristling and eager for a fight. "Since he is in _my_ world, he is _mine!_ How dare you question me, cousin? I should have you executed! You tricked me! You aided them in their escape! You lied about that memory eater too, didn't you?" His eyes darkened in miserably fury.

Swirling up in agitation as the horse's hoof raised once more, posed dangerously near the oblivious memory eater's head, the air-mirror hissed furiously, but then shrunk back down as the King turned suddenly vicious eyes towards him and grabbed the dark-shield from behind him. Holding it between mirror and himself, the King snarled, "If you even _twitch_, mirror, I'll have you cut down within seconds!"

Red gulped, eyes locked on the memory eater, and then, turning them back to the King, said hoarsely, "It's just that… your horse is about to step on him."

The King blinked before leaning to the side, his disguise's milky eyes narrowed but curious. However, once he saw the little memory eater, they widened, the pale pupil dilating with pleasant surprise.

"The memory eater?"

The memory eater gazed up at him, screwed up his little face, and then sneezed softly, the violent exhale causing him to lose his balance.

Immediately, the King slid down from his horse, pushed his horse to the side so it no longer presented a threat, ordered the guards to dismount and seize the six, and then knelt as the violent clanking of armor sounded.

Red, Irit, and not-Hansel backed away hurriedly while the air-mirror swirled in agitation and Peter ran to the Wolf. The Wolf just sat there, knowing he wasn't able to walk or even drag himself to safety.

With a wary but happy air about him, the King picked up the memory eater with gentle hands, held him up, admired the little thing, and then turned back to his horse. Opening a saddle-bag, he set him in softly, cooing a soft noise of pleasure. He finally had his memory eater!

The memory eater curled up and sneezed again, wide eyes on the King's disguised face.

Behind the King's back, the guards advanced, two detaching to 'capture' the Wolf and Peter while the rest of the line, about ten, continued on after the others.

The Wolf glowered at the two guards who circled him, bristling with suspicion. "If you haven't noticed, I can't really fight."

The two continued to circle.

Closing the saddle-bag, the King turned, smiling, and then immediately barked with an annoyed growl, "Oh, just get them already! Kill all of them except for the originals!"

Immediately, the guards rushed forward, no longer continuing the slow advance they had started with.

Irit's tail flashed out from under his coat, the bulbous tip already dripping poison as the disguised scorpion bared his teeth and shifted to be in front of Red. Not-Hansel, too, was ready to engage in battle: from his mouth slithered the long, black tongue, the tip fanning out to become the hooded head of a cobra, flaring with fury and fangs fully extended. He took his stand by Irit.

The guards hesitated before fanning out in a semi-circle.

With black eyes, they glanced at each other before nodding, glancing back, and snarling at Red, "Run."

Red turned to obey, sprinting into the trees.

Instantly, the King hefted himself back onto his horse, teeth bared, and snarled, "Keep the originals safe! No killing them! I'm getting the girl!" He jabbed his knees into his horse's side mercilessly, and the beast whickered before galloping around the guards, their opponents, and after the fleeing girl.

Three guards came charging for the two ready men, their swords arcing through the air as they sliced towards their chests. With a hiss, not-Hansel ducked one sword, flinched as another nearly found his shoulder, and then tackled down one of the guards angrily. His tongue flitted up to bite deeply into the small area of exposed neck between the chain mail and the helmet. Behind him, Irit stumbled back, ducking and leaping as he desperately avoided the guard's seeking sword. Every so often, he would flash out his tail, aiming for an exposed part of skin and even the small holes in the chain mail, but the guard used his shield to his advantage, deflecting these poisonous blows.

The third guard rushed for not-Hansel as another from the semi-circle came in to join. Snarling as he saw a new sword sweeping towards him, not-Hansel wrenched to his side, rolling away from the blade as it bit into the poisoned guard. The newcomer joined Irit's opponent.

Not-Hansel swore loudly as he staggered up, seeing the guard coming after him with a relentless determination. How he wished he could take off this horrible mirror-band! He would then be able to fight normally, not be restricted to this reflection of his original! Waiting till the last moment, he strafed to the side, kicked out, and pounced upon the soldier as he tripped, tongue once again finding exposed flesh.

Irit was stumbling, two swords trying to find his blood, two shields blocking his every offensive. Pale and perspiring, he squeaked as he tripped over a tree root. He landed upon his back, and his eyes grew wide with fear and horror as the two guards above him both raised their swords, ready to bring them crashing down to end his life.

With a howl, the air-mirror leapt onto them, a cloud of black fury. His claws digging through the armor and into the flesh underneath, he scrambled up one of the guard's back and snapped his teeth into the chain mail covering the soldier's neck. The spider squawked, dropped his sword, reached up, and began clawing at his attacker, but his gauntleted fingers' scratching had no effect on the airy flesh.

The other guard hissed, swung out with the dark-shield without thinking.

The air-mirror leapt clear just as the dark-shield cracked against the soldier's neck. Choking, the guard slid to his knees, his airway crushed, and the soldier who had delivered the blow stared down at him, shocked.

Irit tackled him down from behind, having regained his footing and anger. Holding the scrambling man down, he yanked his helmet off, grinned wickedly when he saw hair, and stung the guard mercilessly. The effect of the venom was almost instantaneous; the man stopped moving within seconds.

The remaining six guards, waiting in their semi-circle, glanced at each other before the one with the handkerchief distinguishing him as a captain growled, "The mirror first."

Instantly, three rushed for the mirror, growling loudly.

Irit and not-Hansel leapt forward, coming to the mirror's 'defense'. Stinging at one, and once again being defeated by the armor, Irit lured one to the side while not-Hansel stood before another, who seemed especially frightened as he watched the lieutenant's snake-tongue flare before him.

The remaining guard never knew what hit him.

Stabbing out with his sword furiously, the soldier hissed his annoyance as the air-mirror wrenched away, avoiding the sharp metal edge. He whirled about when he saw the black figure reappear at his side, blade once again slashing through the air as the mirror disappeared.

He didn't reappear immediately this time.

Glancing about warily, feet tapping out a little dance of nervousness against the slushy dirt, the guard looked right and left, searching for a sign of the mirror while one of his comrades fought and the other fell dead. After a few moments, he growled, started towards not-Hansel, convinced the mirror had fled.

The Wolf watched the fight with worried eye, miserable that he couldn't help. In his arms, Peter shivered, staring and showing his fear as the guards sneered and snapped up at him.

The Wolf barely managed to avoid jerking when the small, faint voice whispered into his ear, "Let me back in…"

Gulping, the Wolf slowly turned his head towards where the voice had come from. Nothing.

Again came the whisper, more frantic and desperate this time as another of the soldiers joined the fight against not-Hansel, "Let me back in!"

Finally, the Wolf gulped, nodded, and opened his mouth.

Immediately, his lungs grew cold as the air-mirror shoved himself in, and the rotten scent that accompanied him stung the Wolf's nostrils. For a few moments, bitter ice crept down into his muscles, making his whimper, making the guards circling him warily hiss and back away in their nervous confusion. Why was this original hurting? They hadn't done anything to him!

Then, darkness.

Eyes out of focus for a few moments, the Wolf lolled backwards, slumping against the ground as his will parted and the air-mirror took control. Peter yelped, not knowing what was happening, and squirmed under the heavy arm that pinioned him to the still animal's chest.

"Papa! Papa! Are you okay?"

The Wolf's eyes flickered open; however, instead of their pure milky color…

Sitting up, the air-mirror grinned wildly and hissed, "Dear brother did leave my eye behind… Mmm…" He latched the white and yellow eyes upon the two bewildered guards before snapping his jaws at them, "And I've got some morsels here too!"

Abruptly, the Wolf's distended arms lunged out, and the soldiers shrieked as the massive, damaged hands closed around them, denting their armor with the hideous power that backed it and forcing them to drop their blades. Dragging them close, the air-mirror slowly stood, Peter dropping from his chest to plop onto the muddy ground, and licked his lips, eyes manic and hungry.

With sudden violent, swift ferocity, the air-mirror snapped the Wolf's jaws forward, felt the crunch between his teeth as they sliced into the guard he held captive in his right hand. Ignoring the soldier in his left hand as the man began to scream shrilly, he ripped his mouthful off, not even bothering to have the Wolf chew, and swallowed it. It didn't matter if the armor scraped and cut the Wolf's esophagus; it could always be fixed later. He dropped the remaining half.

The five guards on the other side of the clearing, battling not-Hansel and Irit, heard their comrade's screams, turned to see the source of the noise. Irit and not-Hansel did the same.

Staggering towards them, the guard still writhing in his left hand, the air-mirror smiled with the Wolf's teeth, eyes glowing with the horrid brightness that showed him to be a true monster and a fearful adversary. He stopped when he was within ten feet of the nearest guard before giggling excitedly, "I've found my eye, snake and scorpion! Brother left it!"

Not-Hansel and Irit took an instinctive step back, eyes wide with unhidden fright. If the air-mirror decided to kill them, he would have no trouble doing it now that he had his horrid confidence back!

The guards glanced each other, confused. Was this original insane?

Howling his terror, the soldier in the Wolf's left hand finally extracted a dagger from his belt and, with a scream, buried it hilt-deep into the hand that held him.

Casually, not really minding the pain, the air-mirror turned the Wolf's head down towards him before laughing again, "And I've regained my appetite too!" Without a warning, he brought the writhing guard to his mouth, snapped his teeth around the man's torso, and tore it away with a violent wrench. The screams ended, only to be replaced by the sickening splatter of the falling flesh and blood as it hit the ground below.

The five guards stared in terror as the air-mirror chewed thoughtfully, enjoying the taste through the Wolf's senses, swallowed, and then finished off the remainder of the guard. Licking his fingers, almost as if he were a rude gourmet having just finished a favorite meal, the air-mirror latched a lazy eye onto the remaining five guards and commented, "Would you mind taking off your armor please? It really does interfere with the taste."

One of the guards fainted, his mind overloading with sheer terror; the others, however, fear-induced adrenaline coursing through their veins, spun and ran as fast as their legs could carry them, shrieking and tripping over themselves.

Surprised, the air-mirror blinked before bristling, "That's no fun!"

Not-Hansel and Irit gulped as they stared up at the Wolf's furious and blood-encrusted face, unnerved and rather frightened themselves to hear the air-mirror's voice coming from it.

Not noticing their uncomfortable looks, the air-mirror grumbled, grabbed up the guard who had fainted, and immediately grew cheery again as he finished off his meal with another course of meat.

* * *

During the time of not-Hansel's, Irit's, the air-mirror's, and the Wolf's battle, Red had been running, running from the fight, running from the King, running from her very friends on the order of both the scorpion and the snake. She was sure they would manage to survive and they would come to find her. Then, they would all find a way to send the Wolf, Peter, the memory eater, and herself back home.

However, between a runner and a horse, the horse shall always win.

The King kept his distance at first, eyes glinting with angry amusement as he watched his pet run. Again with that careless and dumb bravery? Did she really think she could escape him? She was his property, his little pet, and she would never be able to throw that title off so easily.

But then, as a long minute dragged on and the girl's movement grew jerky and her breaths ragged, her adrenalin gone to be replaced by muscle ache, the King lost his patience, urged his horse closer.

Hearing hoofbeats behind her, Red turned, weary eyes full of dread as she saw who it was. She stumbled backwards, but her weary legs won, and she fell back into the dirt.

Grumbling under his breath, the King reined his horse to a stop a few feet from her, eyes narrowed and annoyed as he surveyed her grimly, silently biting his lip. Finally, after many moments of watching the girl stare back up at him with defiant but still fearful eyes, he slid down from his saddle, stomped over, grabbed her arm savagely, and pulled her up. Bending his head so he could glower into her eyes, he snarled, "How dare you run away like that? I should kill you right now for your defiance, you stupid girl!" The two brown, black-fanged mandibles poked from his throat, the tips brushing across Red's cheeks. Behind him, the eight legs poked out from underneath the purple cloak, the gray claws on their ends curling in fury.

Squirming weakly, Red snapped back, "I'm not a _pet_! I don't want to be one either!"

"Pet? Oh no…" The King sneered, his eyes glittering with rage, "For the next week or so, you're going to be my student, then you can go back to being my pet, since you seem to _hate_ learning about being a spider. I'm going to finally see you eat something properly, whether you like it or not!"

Red paled, but retained her glare.

The King faltered, not expecting this reaction. He wanted her to start crying or beg for forgiveness, not just stand there and glare back at him. Swallowing, he added angrily, "And I'm going to pull off two of your legs because of your little escape, and we'll see how decent a spider you are then."

Here, Red blanched, and the King rejoiced for a moment before falling back into misery when she forced herself to glare him in the eye again.

For a few instants, the King remained frozen, captive to the angry glare, before feeling fury suddenly well up again inside of him. Reaching down, he grabbed his dagger from his belt, shoved it against her throat, and hissed wrathfully, "In heaven's name, why won't you just cry already? Do I have to cut out your eyes and eat them to see your tears? Must I slit your throat and watch you choke? Will you cry then?" He pressed forward, growling deeply in his throat as he raised the dagger to her face.

Red squeaked, flinching away from the dagger's tip as it scraped against her nose. Incredulously, she hiccupped, "What?"

"Cry! I want you to cry! Are you even capable? I just threatened you with torture and you… you…" The King stumbled over his words, his anger quickly evaporating into the pit of his stomach, where it was changing to a different feeling, "You don't change that stupid, brave look on your face…" He trembled before blinking, recovering, and, jerking the dagger away from her face, turning to drag her back towards his horse. Ignoring his captive's indignant squeaks, he opened the saddle-bag, paused to regard the memory eater for a moment, and then dug out the coil of rope besides it.

Within moments, Red was securely bound, and the King couldn't help but allow himself a relieved sigh as he knotted her to the backside of his horse, the eight legs jutting from his back aiding him in this task. He had his little spiderling again. He would take her home, teach her to be a proper spider, and then have her for the rest of his life. What a lovely thing, to have little girl for himself…

Stepping back, the King surveyed his little, wailing bundle before nodding, vaulting up onto the horse, and urging it into a gentle trot.

Strapped to the haunches of the horses, Red squeaked violently as each new step jolted her. "Let me go! Let me go!"

The King hummed softly under his breath, ignoring her frantic squeaks. Her words meant nothing; he was her master, and he would do as he liked. At the moment, that meant strapping her down to his horse and heading back to where his guards would have destroyed his cousin and his lieutenant and would now be certainly guarding the two other originals.

After a few moments of trotting, the King turned in his saddle, gazed down at the girl's red face, and cooed, "Come now… I'm not that bad, am I?"

Red twisted around so she could latch both fury-filled eyes upon him, "Say that again and I'll bite you! You're horrid!" She snapped her teeth at his cloak, which was the closest thing to her.

The King sighed, reached down, and rifled his disguise's fingers through her hair, "You'll learn…"

"Sire! Sire!"

Blinking, the King turned his head to the front, reined his horse to a stop as a guard ran up to him. Panting, white spittle edging his pale lips, the soldier gasped, "S-s-sire! The… the air-mirror! He's-"

With a growl, the King hissed, "Just use the dark-shields! That's why they're-"

"But he's in your original, sir! We can't harm the original!"

The King froze, eyes growing wide, and then opened his mouth, about to speak when a loud, distant shouting came from behind him. Turning, his disguise's ears cocking, he stared back before growling, "Has all of this world gone mad? Even the locusts are making noise now!" He swirled back around on his horse, motioned to his lone guard, "We're going back to the castle. _Now_. They won't come after her there, and they will have no way to escape once the mirrors are dead. Then we will get them."

The guard nodded hastily, fingers itching at the small dagger hooked onto his waist as he cast a frightened glance back towards the clearing.

* * *

**OOC: Part 2 of 3. The next part will be uploaded tomorrow probably.  
**


	67. Final Confrontation Part Three

"No, brother! Stop it! Stop it! We need to go back to the hole!" The earth-mirror scrambled, squeaking as her brother chased her, eyes murderous as he growled savagely. Six more spines made of locust legs had been added to his appearance, signaling that another insect had come a bit too close for the boy's comfort.

Leaping for her and tackling her down, the water-mirror bit down on her arm, "Call me a little brat, would you? I'll show you!"

"Ow! You twit! I called you that," The earth-mirror kicked him away, "'cause you can't even swim!"

"I can!" fretted the water-mirror, his form clearing as he tried to change into his bigger form, the one the Wolf had first known him by. However, the dark-shield's suffocating, darkening power still lingered, and he was forced back into his real shape, the shape of a miserable, algae-covered seven-year-old.

Waiting for a moment as she watched her brother sulk silently, the earth-mirror whispered, "We need to get back to the hole before they find us… Please?"

The water-mirror glared at her, "Not you. You find your own hole."

"But-"

In a voice impossibly huge for such a small body, the water-mirror roared, "You find your own little hole, you crawl in, and you die and I never have to deal with you again, you big bul-"

Squeaking, cutting off his sentence, the earth-mirror crawled back as a dark shadow fell over the water-mirror's shoulders, casting him into black. Slowly, tensing, the water-mirror turned his head back to see a guard, bristling in his spider form, glaring down at him.

Instantly, it lunged forward, and the water-mirror dove to the side as the sharp fangs nearly hit him. Angrily, the guard snapped about, his black body glowing dully in the afternoon light. The only part bright of him was the red hourglass that was painted on the top of his back.

"Little brats!" The guard stabbed a leg out, desperate to catch his prey.

The water-mirror hissed as he dove away. Leaping over his sister, he snarled, "This is all your fault!"

The earth-mirror staggered up, sprinted away with him as she rasped angrily, "Oh, look who's tal-!"

The two mirrors squeaked in unison as another spider, attracted by their screams as the first one had been, trundled around the corner in front of them. However, unable to stop, they bowled right into him, and the three fell in a mess of legs. Startled, the spider immediately rolled away, legs waving frantically as his comrade quickly skittered towards them, clicking his fangs angrily.

The two mirrors, clasping onto each other in terror, took off running, screaming on the top of their lungs.

"Your fault! Your fault!"

"Shut up, you little brat!"

"I wish I didn't have you as a sister!"

"I wish you weren't my stupid, little brother!"

"I'm going to tell mom and she's going to break you good!"

"Well, we can't do that if they eat us, stupid!" The earth-mirror pulled her brother into an alley, shoving him into a narrow crack between the ground and the house, and pushed in after him.

The water-mirror spat at her, but scampered forward, his back brushing up against the dirty, wet wood that made the 'floor' of the house above him. With a growl, he shoved himself into a corner, curled up, and shivered.

The earth-mirror squeaked as a sharp leg speared through the hole, stabbing her leg before the small claws at the end clutched her ankle. Screeching, she turned, buried her little teeth into the black leg, and scrambled back as the sound of a spider pain screeched through the air, delving into their minds like an ice cold knife.

Taking refuge by her brother, the earth-mirror whimpered, clutching her leg as clouds of dust wafted from her fingers, covering her wound with a fine coat of blood-staunching dirt. Meanwhile, the water-mirror only tried to make himself smaller, his hair covering his face except for a dull blue eye that stared out at his older sister.

"I hate you."

"Shut up already!" hissed the earth-mirror, exasperated. "Fine, we hate each other, but, until we can change back, we're stuck in this thing together! If I die, you have no one to help you out of this, so help me out!"

The water-mirror hid his eyes, grumbling, and then sat up, bumped his head on the wooden floorboards above him, flinched, and snarled, "How? How do you want me to help? Just stay still and let them eat me while you escape?"

"Well, helping me run until I can fix this would be nice." Sniffed the earth-mirror, pointing at her leg.

"Why would we run? We're safe down-"

The sound of breaking wood echoed from above them, only to be followed by the startled shrieks of locusts as their nest was broken into. Immediately, there were the crackles of unfolding wings as the locusts alighted, the two screeches of two unfortunate insects, and the angry 'click click clicks' of spider legs hurrying across the floor.

"Find the edge, Stoffers, and we'll pry it up."

The mirrors stiffened. The earth-mirror stared upwards, seeing shadows through the boards before registering a faint pressure on her torso. Glancing down, she saw the water-mirror clutching to her, sniffling.

"Sister… I don't want to die…" He rubbed his running nose against her shirt. His anger had fallen to his fear.

The earth-mirror leaned against him, running a hand through his hair as she whispered, "Don't worry… We'll get out of this…"

They both blanched as the floorboard above them began to groan upwards, its edge caught by the hungry guards' claws. With a squeak, the earth-mirror pushed her brother away and dragged herself after him as a long leg stuck down through the small crack that the spiders had made, the claws at the tip flaring and groping in the air, trying to find where they were.

The water-mirror moaned, his head against his sister's elbow. He had turned a pasty greenish-white. "Sister… I don't feel so good…" His eyelids fluttered before he burped and choked.

The earth-mirror hastily raised her hand, just in time to avoid having it splashed with vomit as the water-mirror threw up, a light brown mess spilling from his mouth. Gagging through the liquid but 

somewhat solid mess, the water-mirror turned transparent, the water that made his body twisting as it tried to expand again.

This time, the threads stayed.

Above the floorboards, the spiders yowled encouragement to each other, hissing to each other how tasty the two young children just underneath this old, rotten wood would taste after they caught them. Other than to incite their own appetites and egos, this was done as cruel taunting, for they knew the children could hear underneath.

"Hey, Stoffers!" snarled one, ripping up his side as a nail came loose. "I think I got-"

A sharp spear of water thrust deep into the spider's body. Squeaking in surprise, the spider never had a chance as the spear yanked back down, bringing him down with it.

The floorboard clanked down as the legs disappeared.

Staring, the other spider quickly scrambled back, hearing nothing. He turned his ugly black head left to right, suddenly paranoid; so these _were_ the mirrors, and they had finally reverted to their preferred forms. Shoot! He had left his dark-shield back at the horse, as had everybody else in his squad!

The floorboard shifted, sending the soldier's thoughts catapulting from his mind as they were replaced by pure panic. With all eight eyes, he watched five long, tapered fingers slide out from the small crack it had made, tinted a reddish-pale color. For a moment, the fingers roamed about, trying to find a comfortable position, and they finally clenched against the wood, the fingernails digging down into the rotten timber.

Slowly, the floorboard lifted, and the black, glinting eyes of the water-mirror, pinpricked with red, peered out. Seeing the spider, he froze before licking his lips.

In an instant, he had disappeared back down under the floor. With a hiss, he bound to underneath where the spider was, bunched up, and crashed upwards.

The spider squawked fearfully as the wood splintered underneath its feet, the water-mirror hissing loudly as he stabbed angrily at the spider's underbelly. With a loud squelch, the long claws of the mirror punched through the thick leathery skin, burying deep into the spider's flesh.

Instantly squealing, the spider tried to wrench away, tried to escape the agonizing pain that seared his stomach, but the mirror snarled, ripped his claws out, grabbed the spider by a leg, and, swinging him about with unsettling ease, slammed him against the wall.

The spider fell still.

Giggling maniacally, unable to control the adrenalin that rushed through him, the water-mirror stomped a foot down, cracking a board in half, "Sister! Come out!"

Beneath the floor, the earth-mirror gulped before poking her head up through the hole. "…Are you okay, brother?"

The water-mirror grinned wildly, his sharp teeth baring in such a way that made the earth-mirror shudder, "I just got my powers back… I think I deserve my happiness."

"… Yay for you." Sniffed the earth-mirror dryly, starting to scramble up through the hole.

Reaching down, the water-mirror grabbed her by the back of her dusty shirt, hauled her up so she dangled in front of him, and then inspected her with glinting, black eyes. "You know what just dawned on me? I could easily destroy you right now, and then I would never have to worry about you bothering me again."  
The earth-mirror glowered at him, pursing her lips.

"But then I think that is just ridiculous… So… Let's kill these impudent guards… And I hope you have decided to turn against the King, seeing he ordered us killed." The water-mirror leaned forward, kissed his sister on the forehead. "What do you say that?"'

The earth-mirror's nose crinkled before she snorted, "I say 'fine', but you have to make sure I stay alive till I'm able to protect myself."

"I promise." The water-mirror dropped her, his form distorting as he grew taller and thinner, his eyes sparking with eager anticipation. "So now… let's eat."

* * *

The air-mirror had relinquished his control of the Wolf, settling back into the animal's lungs as he lounged moodily, listening to the Wolf's wheezing gasps with amused spite. As he had thought, swallowing a guard still decked in armor had scraped the inside of the Wolf's esophagus, making each breath agonizing for the poor animal.

Heedless of the pain that erupted with each breath, each step slow and determined, the Wolf struggled forward, constantly falling against trees as his legs buckled and his knees locked up. Still he forged on, eyes glazed with fury.

Not-Hansel and Irit followed him at a distance, Peter quivering in Irit's arms. The two men, stony-faced, watched as the Wolf continued forward.

"He can barely walk, and he's off to find that girl." Whispered not-Hansel, eyes narrowed, "He's going to kill himself if he keeps this up."

Irit nodded, petting Peter gently as the little wolf whimpered in his arms, "But at least we have someone who can smell her. Otherwise, we'd be lost in looking for her, wouldn't we?"

"Well, we could assume that the King would take her back to his castle, but by which way?"

"Which is why I said having someone who could follow her scent is a definite advantage. Let's just hope we catch up to them soon."

The Wolf stopped, leaning against a tree as he gasped for air, tongue lolling out. His exhausted slump alarmed the two men behind him, who immediately rushed up.

"Are you okay?" asked not-Hansel, eyes wide with worry.

The Wolf's furious eyes turned towards them before he hacked angrily, "You couldn't have kept her with you? Now she's kidnapped again, or dead!" The very thought seemed to fill him with a new raw energy, and he began to struggle forward again, fur on end.

A dark, amused voice rose from his chest, "Want me to make this faster?"

"No." snarled the Wolf, "Since it seems that every time I come back after you've controlled me, I have a new wound somewhere on or in my body! So no! I will not let you take my demmed body again!"

Peter turned teary eyes towards the Wolf before whimpering, "Papa…"

The Wolf froze, hearing the soft tremble in his son's voice, and then turned back towards Irit. Fingers cracking, their joints loose and fractured, as he reached out, he whispered, "Peter… I'm sorry… I'm not mad at you…"

Peter let a watering eye lock onto him before sniffling, "But you… you ate the men… you _laughed_…" His lip trembled, his ears laid back in agitation.

The Wolf gulped before rasping, "It wasn't me… It was the-"

The mirror's chuckled wormed out of his mouth, "It was me. Don't worry, little wolf; your father's still there. Just a bit… physically changed."

The Wolf gritted his teeth, infuriated, opened his mouth to retort, and then blinked when he saw not-Hansel's face turn a pasty white. Blinking, he cocked his head, asked, "Are you sick?"

A trickle of blood leaked out of not-Hansel's right eye as he raised a trembling hand to place it against his head. Voice soft and tremulous, he murmured softly, "I… I don't… I think my original… I think he just did something…" Hiccupping weakly, he sat slowly, shivering, before his suddenly weak legs would force him down.

The Wolf blinked in surprise. "What? What's wrong with you?"

Irit watched the trembling form of not-Hansel with wary eyes, "Well, since he didn't disappear, it can't be the fact that his original committed suicide… Must be something else… Here, can you hold Pe-"

Peter squeaked, tightened his hold on Irit's jacket, burying his face away from his father, "Don't make me… don't make me…"

Inside, the Wolf felt such a feeling of self-hatred and misery that he moaned audibly, his already slumped shoulders angling downwards even more.

Irit stared down at Peter before sighing, "Fine. Wolf, can you get me his mirror, pl-"

The Wolf was in a middle of a miserable nod when a wind brushed gently through the trees, bringing new scents with it. Among them…

Turning, furious, the Wolf stalked forward, nose high in the air as he tried to pinpoint Red's scent. The horse smell that accompanied it was that of an exhausted mustang, one probably already 

worked into a sweaty pant. Immediately, not being able to help it, he smiled widely. The King would have to rest his horse, allowing him time to find him and rescue Red.

"Where are you going?" called Irit desperately, glancing from the cringing Peter in his arms to the trembling not-Hansel on the ground.

"I'm going to go get Red out this mess!" snarled the Wolf, feeling the air-mirror rifle with excitement in his lungs.

"Can I kill the King?" crooned the air-mirror, his voice high-pitched with eagerness.

The Wolf bared his teeth, "Just save me a part."

* * *

"Sire…" whispered the guard, glancing about in nervousness, "Shouldn't we be going?"

"If you haven't noticed, my horse is dying of exhaustion." Snapped the King irritably, his eyes never leaving his little prisoner. She had quieted down after a few minutes of traveling and had fallen asleep across the back of his horse.

Noticing the center of his attention, the guard followed his line of sight, saw where he was looking, and then hesitantly joked, "Seems your little pet won't ever do that."

The King was unresponsive for a few moments before he turned his disguise's eyes to the guard; in the milky orbs were the distinct glints of annoyed anger and frustration. "Unfortunately, it seems neither will _you_."

The guard blinked before lowering his head, "I meant no disrespect, sir."

"Of course you didn't." sniffed the King, nodding curtly as he returned his eyes to Red. "It's just you spoke before thinking, is that it?"

"…Yes, sir."

"So _think_… And do you have any other weapon other than that?" The King motioned to his underling's dagger with a stiff hand.

"…No…"

"…Fine." The King fumbled at the sword on his own waist, a thin rapier, and then held it out to the soldier with one hand as his other rifled in his pocket. As the sword was hesitantly taken from him, he grunted, "It's not as if I will need it."

"Sir…? But what… what if they catch you? Won't you need it then to fight if you have to stay in your mirror-band?"

"I've done away with that law." Snorted the King irately, crossing his arms.

"Then why are you-"

The King's hand stilled in his pocket before he drew out a familiar, electric-blue stone. Sighing happily, he held it up to the light, watched it glint for a second as the soldier stared at it.

"A… A…" The guard stuttered violently, unable to speak for a few moments, before hissing softly, "A demon stone? Are you insane, sire? You know the effects are instantaneous on this side of the mirror! You're putting everybody in grave danger just by having it here!"

"Hmm…?" With a lazy grumble, the King stowed it in his pocket once again, "Just a precaution."

"Just a… A precaution?" strangled the soldier, mortified. "You swallow that and it's no longer you! It's the King who would have killed us all in a heartbeat at- at- at- the Coronation! Your Coronation! You remember that, don't you?"

"You all had the drunkies." Sniffed the King.

"And, knowing how you hate it as you are now, the dark you would kill us all and eat us if it had been him there!"

"Well, I can control it." The King said, albeit a bit softly.

"Control it?" The guard choked, staggering as he tried to grip his horrified surprise, "That's like controlling a hurricane! Maybe a general mirror, but not a little mirror like me and you!"

The King's eyes narrowed instantly, "A little mirror?"

"No offense meant, sire, but…" The guard bit his lip, "I meant a mirror that is… _less powerful_ than the general mirrors."

Immediately, the King surged up, swinging out at the soldier with his disguise's claws. Enraged, he snarled, "Less powerful? Less powerful? Once those mirrors are gone, everybody will obey _me_, 'cause I'll be the most powerful! I'll have that power, and I'll have the power that she gives me!" He pointed at Red angrily, but his eyes never left the stricken guard, "I'll be able to use the advice she gives me for the good of this pitiful, disgusting place! I'll be able to use my original, once I get him, to ensure that I finish what I start, and that I leave this world in a much better place than when I was first charged with it! That's what one can do with power! I'll take a place of a general mirror if I have too! I swear I will!"

The guard squeaked, "Take a place of a gener- That's impos-"

"Shut up! You know nothing!" growled the King, turning, stiff and furious.

The guard stared at his King's back before nodding slowly , "I will be quiet, sire."

"…" Slumping, his rage fleeing, the King said softly, "No… You can keep talking… I'm just not happy at the moment… I'm hungry, I'm pressured, and I'm more likely to die than before because of the mirrors' interest with my original… It's a horrible feeling, really… I never had these feelings before I took the throne… Sometimes I do regret taking it… But where would the kingdom be then? Probably dead or dying… Much worse than what its rot is right now." The King glanced about, a fleeting smile alighting upon his lips as a fierce pride forced itself into him. It was _him_ that had held this land together, passing laws and setting strict rules to limit the amount of death each day. It was _him_ who was the power behind the enforcing guards who executed his orders and inspired enough fear to make even a group of revolting peasants tremble and think twice. _He _was the peace; without him, chaos, destruction, death.

And this long train of thought brought him right back to his current predicament. How _dare_ the lieutenant and his cousin, along with the originals and the mirrors, rebel against him? He would have their heads on pikes for this, and their bodies waiting to be eaten too! As for his original, he would see how well he liked it when his son was torn apart in front of him! He had had his chance, and he had pushed it and the offered kindness away!

Seething beneath the surface, the King managed to keep an absolutely pensive look upon his face as he battled over what punishments to lay down upon the originals and the others. The guard watched his face, drew back after a few moments, and took his guarding post by the horse. He cast a few looks at Red, not knowing whether or not he should feel sorry for her, but then decided to stop thinking about even of that, settling down into a dumb, alert state of being.

If he had stayed alert, he might have seen the gray, large shadow appear among the far trees, milky eyes furious and nostrils flaring. As it was, he stared absently up at a branch, only breaking from his reverie when a blackbird set down upon the branch and snuggled down, chirping.

"Sir?" The guard turned his head to the side, oblivious to the coming Wolf.

"What?" growled the King irritably, itching at the purple cloak around his neck. The sun's warmth had become noticeable, and the cloak was an accessory no longer needed; he would need to get rid of it once they returned to the castle.

"You said you were hungry?"

"Why do you ask?" The King turned glinting eyes towards the guard, "Did you see-" Freezing, he stared at the advancing gray shadow before leaping up and snarling, "You dolt! And you're supposed to be a _guard_?" With a growl, he whirled, sprinted over to his horse, and began to scramble up as the guard turned to see what he meant.

Seeing the King mounting his horse, the Wolf dropped to all fours, bounded forwards. Yellow teeth bared, eyes aglitter with hate and fury, he tore into the clearing, his paws throwing up mud and globs of slush behind him, and lunged for the horse just as the King wheeled it about, ready to urge it into a gallop.

He hit the horse full on the side, and the poor beast, along with the one rider and one prisoner atop it, went cartwheeling. As the guard drew his newly-acquired rapier, the Wolf backed to the edge of the clearing, growling menacingly and snapping his yellow teeth at the air.

"Let me! Let me! Let me!" whined the air-mirror from inside him.

"No!" hissed the Wolf under his breath.

Moaning, the King sat up, cradled his head for a moment, and then froze. Slowly, he turned his eyes towards the dazed horse and the girl who lay beneath it.

Immediately, he scrambled up, ran to the horse, and hurriedly unknotted the rope that held Red to the horse. Reaching down, he grabbed her feet, began to pull violently at them, trying to drag her out from beneath the horse as he yowled, "You stupid original! It's your fault if you crushed her! You stupid, stupid thing!" He slipped in the mud before standing again, kicking angrily at the horse. He didn't notice that the memory eater had fallen from his saddle-bag and was now sucking on his thumb, bright, black eyes staring at the Wolf.

The Wolf's fur rose on end before he hurried for, rage momentarily forgotten to make place for frantic worry. Red? Crushed? No!

The guard blocked him, arms holding the rapier out before him to show he was ready to slash and hack to defend his King. Anger rushing back, the Wolf backed away, eyes narrowed and ears flat against his skull.

The horse blinked as yet another harsh kick was delivered to its back before it rolled away, legs buckling as it struggled to stand. Where it had lain was the still form of Red.

Instantly, the King knelt beside her and shook at her shoulder, his disguise's eyes wide with worry, "Girl? Are you okay?"

Red didn't respond.

* * *

**OOC: I'm so sorry for the late update, my lovely readers. Between packing and hiding away my computer from a vengeful brother, I had no time to upload this chapter before vacation... And I just got back last weekend, which I wasted getting over jet lag. Perhaps it was best I didn't, with the somewhat 'scary' ending... But I shall upload another soon!  
Part 3 of 4? Part 3 of 3? Depends.  
**


	68. Final Confrontation 'Final'

_Red didn't respond._

Lost, the King pulled at her shirt, thinking about feeling for a heartbeat, and then thought better. Grabbing her arm, he felt at her wrist, nearly melted with relief when he felt a steady pulse.

She was just unconscious.

With a relieved slump, the King allowed her hand to fall from his fingers before standing and whirling towards the Wolf, furious, "You could have killed her, you fool! You know what a loss that could have been?" Angrily, he dipped a hand into his pocket, his fingers clenching around the demon stone tightly.

Behind him, the memory eater finally tore his little eyes from the Wolf, turned them to Red, and then squeaked happily as he crawled over to cuddle into the crook of her arm.

Fury aroused by the harsh words, the Wolf bit at the air and began to pace before the guard, eyes roving as they tried to find a weakness in the guard's defense so he could break through and rescue his friend. "_Me? _You… You pig! How dare you blame me?"

Unable to hold himself back anymore, the air-mirror rushed up to the Wolf's mind, clamped down, and quickly began to take control.

"Don't worry… We'll deal with him." Came the lilting voice as the Wolf's sight filled with darkness.

The King regarded the Wolf with curious eyes as his original's shoulders sagged, his eyes flickering to a bright white and yellow to their usual gray, milky color several times as he staggered about, his paws trying to find stable positions on the grounds. Finally, he asked, "Are… are you okay?" Had his original gone faint with agitation and stress?

The Wolf's eyes snapped wide-open, one blazing white and the other burning a fiery yellow, and immediately rooted themselves upon the King. A long, pinkish-gray tongue lolled out before the rough voice of the air-mirror forced itself up into his mouth and out into the air, "Okay…? I daresay I am, as is your original, but we," He drew up his host with a maniacal grin, "have decided to kill you." He paused, eyes narrowing with pleasure as he reviewed his own words, delighted with what words he had chosen.

The King stared before erupting into laughter. Clapping a hand to his chest, he choked around a laugh, "Kill me? Come now, mirror! You know what… what chaos comes about when a King dies! There's struggles for the throne, arguments, and civil wars! Let's just do this peacefully; go back to your mirror, I'll forget about you, and I'll be happy with my original and my little girlie."

The mirror frowned. He hadn't been expecting laughter in face of his threat. "But you've already killed sister... And, besides, brother is already against you. If I turn for your side, he'll turn on me."

"But you'll have me and my soldiers to back you." Lilted the King, forcing a friendly grin. One less general mirror to deal with would lessen the headaches that would come with frustration by a great deal.

"… Or I could still just kill you and take the girl for the original and brother." Muttered the mirror. "Yes, yes… I like that more."

"Now…. Don't be stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn!" Snarled the mirror, starting forward. "I just decided I want to eat you. Now stay still so I _can_." Leaning forward, he lunged towards the King, jaws snapping angrily. The guard squeaked as he was bowled over, hitting his head against the ground and falling into deep unconsciousness.

With a squawk, the King dove away just as the long, sharp claws of the Wolf sliced above his head. Quickly scrambling away, half crawling, half standing, he snarled, "You're making a big mistake, mirror!"

"The only mistake I'm making is not using my own mouth." Hissed the mirror, grabbing at the King.

The King ducked under the claws once more before violently head-butting up into the Wolf's abdomen.

Sqawking, the Wolf fell back as a small cloud of black jetted from his mouth: the mirror, having been forced out of the Wolf's lungs by the sudden pressure. Immediately, not bothering to try to return to his host's body, he streaked down, intent on attacking the King in his pure form.

With a screech, the King hurriedly strafed to the side, barely missing the angrily buzzing cloud that could strip his flesh off in a matter of seconds should it touch him. As the mirror wafted to a stop, wrenching back up into more solid form, intending to turn, the King scrabbled back to his horse, who had stayed obediently there, as it was trained to do. Ripping the dark mirror from its back, he whirled about just as the air-mirror smashed into him.

The King fell back against his horse, his breath knocked from him as a small boy struggled to rise from where he had fallen at his feet. Black hair sticking up in every direction and blowing in an ever-constant but nonexistent wind, his neck tilted dangerously to the side to show that it had been broken, the mirror managed to stand and stood there, only about three and half feet tall compared to the King's seven feet, howling at the stunned enemy, "No! You can't do that! The dark shield is cheating! You're a cheater, you stupid King man! I hate you!" How he could have yelled so loudly, let alone move, with a broken neck was impossible to tell.

His disguise's milky eyes wide with surprise but also smug satisfaction, the King choked for air before rasping, "So says the little boy who has to hide behind a nearly invincible disguise."

Next instant, the air-mirror struggled vainly, the King's claws curled into his hair as he pulled him up into the air. Ignoring the boy's screeches, he coughed, bent a little so he could peer into the enraged mirror's face, and then chuckled darkly, "And I told you shouldn't have gone up against me."

With an angry growl, the mirror spat into his face.

Straightening with a hiss of annoyance, the King opened his mouth, allowing his two brown-black mandibles to poke out. As they clicked together, he snarled, "Do you _want_ me to torture you before killing you? I could, you know."

The mirror pursed his lips before latching glinting bright eyes onto the King's chest and smirking, "If I could only have your heart right now, it would me saying that. And you know what I would do? I'd eat your black heart like an apple, and watch you writhe and fade away and I would be happy." He turned his defiant little eyes up to the King's glittering eyes and giggled insanely, "Do what you want. It only shows how pathetic you are as a King."

Suddenly, the mirror choked as the pointed tip of the King's dagger stabbed through his thin neck. A low rumble rising from his throat, the King grated furiously, "Pathetic? Me? Look who's about to _die_." He jerked the dagger to the side viciously.

The soft thump of the mirror's body landing upon the slushy ground seemed to bring the dazed Wolf back to reality. Moaning loudly, he struggled to sit up, his back muscles so torn and broken that he found it nearly impossible to. Yet, somehow, he managed to find his way up into a sitting position, half-blind as his eyesight clouded over with bright dots. Shivering, he moaned, "…Mirror…? Red…?" He had no idea how long he had been laying there, how long the air-mirror had been in him, whether or not the mirror had dispatched of the King.

The King glanced up, his hand still clenched in the bleeding head of the mirror. Blinking, he stepped over the small body of the mirror and started over, leaving a spattered trail of crimson behind him as the small prize in his right hand leaked blood.

"Mirror?" The Wolf's voice grew a bit stronger as he rubbed desperately at his eyes. "Red? Hello? Is… is anyone there?"

The King dropped the mirror's head, reached up to his ear, and gripped the small flap that allowed him to take his mirror-band off. Tugging at it, he felt the band slide off, felt the sharp, icy prickles that accompanied changing back to his normal self, and then rounded the Wolf so he stood behind, leaving the mirror-band and the demon stone upon the ground. Now that he was back in his normal form, he was just as big as his original; it would help him if the Wolf decided to fight him.

The Wolf let his hands drop, eyes watering as they readjusted. Finally seeing the scene, he stiffened when he saw the small headless body only a few meters in front of him and then hurriedly scrambled back a ways when his eyes landed upon the black-haired head that lay just at his feet.

The King was waiting. The instant the Wolf's shoulder touched his waiting forelegs, he lunged forward, seven of his legs curling around the Wolf and pinioning him in a matter of seconds.

The Wolf yelped, began to struggle vainly as the King began to use his one free back leg to draw the sticky silk he had begun to spin from his spinnerets and wind it around the Wolf's sides and hands, intent on making him unable to move in the least. As each jerk from the Wolf became less and less violent and desperate, his movements restricted by the ever-growing amount of thread, the King grew 

more and more satisfied, his abdomen inflating with pride. It was him who had caught the originals, nearly single-handed too! It was him who had destroyed two of the general mirrors, all on his own!

The King sighed happily, his fangs clicking next to the Wolf's ears as he looped a final thread of spider's silk around the Wolf's torso. The Wolf flinched, tried to break the threads once more, and then moaned sullenly as the King pushed him to his side. Straightening him out, the tarantula quickly bound his feet together in the same way he had done his arms before backing away and muttering smugly, "Not too tight, I hope."

Infuriated, the Wolf snapped, "Let me out so I could fight you, you coward! I'll tear your legs off!"

The King snapped his fangs and rasped an amused chuckle, "Now, now, at least I'm not going to hurt you, am I?" He crept forward, his forelegs brushing against the Wolf's web-covered back before settling on the base of his neck. Leaning forward, he whispered, "Unlike what I did to the mirror now. You saw?"

The Wolf shuddered violently before trying to roll onto his back, snapping his teeth together, "You're a monster!"

The King chuckled gratingly before turning away, crawling slowly back to the still form of Red and the memory eater who nuzzled against her. Stilling at her side, he regarded the memory eater before brushing at his head gently with a foreleg. "You'll be good, little memory eater… You won't try to destroy me like everybody seems to do…"

The memory eater grabbed one of the black claws that tipped the King's legs and sucked eagerly at it, squeaking around his mouthful.

The King shivered with delight before crouching down and rubbing Red's side softly with his fangs. Blinking, the memory eater stopped sucking at the claw, turned his twinkling black eyes to Red's greasy hair, and then, fur fuzzing out to the point he looked like a ball of fluff, began to howl loudly.

Startled, the King took a few steps back before lilting, "Don't worry. She's only unconscious. There's nothing to be worried about."

The memory eater continued with his screeches, little tears running down the fur on his cheek as his fingers balled up into fists.

The King waited for a few moments before poking at the memory eater indignantly, "Be quiet, will you? You don't need to burst everybody's eardrums in a ten-mile ra-"

Suddenly, sharp pain lanced up from his back, making the King reflexively leap forward over the unconscious girl and the memory eater as he yelped. Quivering, legs quirking as they tried to override the feeling of hurt, he spun about, clicking angrily, to see Irit.

Returning the angry clicks with the accompanying sound of snapping claws, Irit trundled slowly to his left, his tail poised warily above his head, ready to strike again should he have to. Behind Irit, leaning against a tree where the scorpion had left him, sat not-Hansel, still weak, still pale, and still unable to move that much. Curled up against his chest was a wide-eyed Peter, who stared at the heap of spider's silk and torn fur that was his father.

The King hunched, bristling, "Cousin!"

Irit wilted, just a bit, "The originals have to go home, cousin."

Shivering with rage, the King mirrored his cousin's movement to the left, his forelegs up and bristling, his fangs dripping poison in readiness. "They will not! And you cannot force me! We have the same exact family venom, if you don't remember! We cannot fight and have one win!"

Irit stayed silent for a moment before clicking softly, "I could blind you."

"And I could bite your tail off." Snarled the King, advancing slightly.

Irit moved forward slowly, tail raising higher to accent his threat. "Just let the originals go. We can avoid all of this and go back to normal."

Hissing furiously, the King lunged forward, and instantly found two of his middle legs caught in the hold of Irit's pincers. He saw the dripping stinger rushing towards his eyes, rose his forelegs to block it.

They struggled for a few moments, Irit trying to maneuver himself into a position where he could sting and hurt while the King hit angrily at him with his free legs, keeping his forelegs up to block the stinger whenever it tried to hit him.

Finally, Irit released the King's legs, backed away as the King spat and waved his forelegs at him, bloated with anger. "You see how useless it is. Just let the originals go and we can avoid all this. We're family. We shouldn't have to part ways because of _originals_."

The King caught the lilting, luring tone of his voice and grated, "If I should ever listen to you again, I hope someone kills me before I fall into another of your traps, you git!" Along with the anger that swelled even more so inside him, he felt a panging sense of frustration; he wouldn't be able to defeat Irit with just venom or bites. He needed the demon stone. He would use it, just this once, to get rid of his troublesome cousin and to take his prizes back to the castle. He would make himself spit it up afterwards.

The demon stone! Where was it again? The King slowly turned to the side, making Irit bristle and skitter to the side, trying to stay in front of him. There it was. On the ground, right next to his mirror-band. But Irit would stop him should he

Forcing his muscles to relax, the King sighed, "You know, cousin… You're right…"

Irit immediately tensed, confused, "Huh?"

"You're right about the originals."

His many black eyes glittering, Irit clicked excitedly, "You'll let them go?" His tail lowered slightly.

"…Sure…"

Irit's tail instantly lay flat against the ground, the scorpion shuddering with delight, "Oh, I knew you would see it as the best thing to do!"

From his seat against the tree, not-Hansel glared at the King warily. Huddled in his arms, Peter whimpered, "Is papa okay?"

Irit didn't respond.

The King clicked his fangs in lying agreement. "Yes… Here… I'll just go get my… mirror-band… since I don't want to scare the girl again when she wakes up…" He started for his mirror-band.

Irit followed him, clicking his mandibles happily. "Oh, I'm so glad you came to your senses, Siracus! You won't be sorry for this! You know what? I'll hunt for you for two weeks!"  
The King flinched violently when he heard his name, but grunted an angry agreement. Just a few more feet, and then he could eat the demon stone, turn around, kill his cousin, and be rid of the traitor!

Not-Hansel's refracted eyes regarded the King, bright diamond orbs of stone, before flitting to the mirror-band laying on the ground. From where he was, he could not see the demon stone, but he still was filled with some suspicious feeling that the King was somehow tricking them. Was there something about the mirror-band that they didn't know?

The King reached his mirror-band, crouched down so his dim black eyes could overlap the seven images he saw. Reaching forward, he hooked the mirror band up.

The demon stone fell down from behind one of the small mirrors.

Immediately, not-Hansel screeched, "Irit! Irit! He has a blasted demon stone!" Peter jumped in surprise at the sudden loud voice from above his head, his ears laying back as he cowered down into a ball.

Too late, for the King has hurriedly grabbed it with the black claws on the end of his foreleg. Bringing it up to his fangs, he shoved it past the two fanged mandibles into his mouth and quickly swallowed it down.

Sharp prickles of heat ran up his legs, causing him to reflexively jerk, his legs twitching as he tried to get away from the warmth. He felt nothing as Irit stung out at him from behind, panicking when he heard the word 'demon stone', nor did he see not-Hansel's face turn the pasty white of horror, for his eyes seemed to have shut off, leaving him in pure darkness. Stumbling back, he reached up with his forelegs, intent on ripping off whatever was covering his eyes, before screeching as the tough, leathery skin covering his back split down the middle, sharp black-diamond spikes snapping up and out into the air. The tips of his last three pairs of legs bulged before ripping apart, allowing sharp, silvery sword-length claws to curl out, while his forelegs remained unchanged. His mandibles forced themselves a little wider as to reveal the sharp, shiny set of silver teeth that had just grown in his mouth, each tooth glistening with spit.

Reeling about blindly, moaning softly as the pain faded, the King shivered with relief as his eyes unclouded, leaving white dots across his vision.

Only then did he see the tip of Irit's stinging tail rushing towards his face.

With an angry hiss, he instinctively brought a leg up, and Irit squeaked loudly as the sharp sword-claws on the end sliced deep into his tail. However, he had no time to retract his tail, retreat, and prepare for a new attack, for the King dragged him closer, easily overcoming his violent resistance.

"Cousin, cousin, cousin…." Came the gloating voice of the King, who now knew he had much more power, much more strength, "You told me yourself. You can't hurt me with your venom, and I can't hurt you with mine. So I was thinking perhaps a rough dismemberment and a quick dinner?" He lowered his fanged mandibles and clicked them together over Irit's eyes.

Irit froze, all seven of his eyes piecing together the images of the King's snapping mandibles, and then writhed viciously against his captor's hold, his tail scraping up against the King's belly uselessly. "Get off! Off! Off! O-"

With a snarl, the King grabbed Irit's tail, swung about angrily, and released his hold upon the tail, watching Irit shriek as he was launched into the air. A moment later, a loud crash brought a dull feeling of content disappointment to the King's hearing.

On the other side of the clearing, Irit lay still at the base of a tree, his senses knocked from him.

The Wolf stared, milky eyes wide. At his sides, his distorted claws scratched desperately at the strong spider's silk that bound him, trying to fray it enough that he could break out. However, his progress was minimal, the silk too thick for him to break.

He heard a small noise at his shoulder, turned his head so he could see Peter and not-Hansel. Wheezing, pasty skin covered with sweat, not-Hansel pulled his arm from Peter's shoulders, whispering, "Thank you."

Peter's ears laid back flat against his skull as he curled down, eyes wide as he regarded his father. The Wolf's milky eyes rolled in their socket before locking on him, and a worried, miserable smile pushed up at his torn lips and cheeks. He whispered, "Peter... Are you alright…?"

Peter sniffled before leaning forward, licking his papa's nose, and shivering, "Papa… I'm sorry… It's just… You acted all scary… Please get better…"

The Wolf would have chuckled in relief, but, instead, he squeaked as he felt not-Hansel worm in beneath the webbing, hissing softly, "Wolf, you've gotten yourself into a bad position here, haven't you?"

The Wolf flinched as not-Hansel wormed about, trying to undo the strands of thick silk that bound the broken beast. "Hansel-thing, what are you-"

"Shut up, if you don't want the blasted spider to hear!"

The Wolf clicked his teeth together as he shut his mouth before opening his jaws yet again to whisper softly to Peter, who had placed himself over his nose as he shivered and clutched at his father's gray fur, "Peter… It's kind of hard to breathe with you there."

Peter didn't respond, only coughing faintly and readjusting his body.

Across the clearing, unaware of what was happening by the Wolf, the King clicked happily, trundling about and rubbing his forelegs together. Crawling back over to Red, who still lay unconscious upon the ground, he hooked her up with his claws, pulled her to his mandibles, and then began to rub them against her gently, muttering to himself under his breath, "Little spiderling… You wouldn't mind if I stayed just a little longer… Just for a snack… It won't be that much longer…" He chuckled, gave her a final nuzzle, and set her down before regarding the memory eater, who sat there on the slushy ground, rocking back and forth, playing with his little toes as his wide black eyes followed the King's movements. He watched him for a few moments before making a small noise of satisfaction.

Now, for dinner.

Turning about, intent on crawling over to Irit and carry out his threat, the King froze when he saw a small movement from the direction of the Wolf before crouching down, the spines on his back flaring, and crawling forward, growling softly.

Neither Peter or the Wolf saw him; Peter too distracted with hugging his father's snout, the Wolf unable to see through Peter's blond fur. Not-Hansel still wrestled with the threads at the Wolf's side.

"Papa…?" whispered Peter.

"Yes, Peter?" came the Wolf's muffled voice.

"When will you be normal ag-"

Peter's question turned into a squeak as three sharp claws pinched down upon the looser skin on the back of his neck and jerked him up and back. Grumbling under his breath, the King ignored Peter's frightened squeaks as he snapped his fangs together, the spines on his back flattening. "Oh, look… It's the little original… Why do you seem to always pop up?"

Peter flailed wildly, trying to escape the black claws. "Ah! No! Let go! Let go!" Reaching up, he scratched wildly at the tip of the King's leg.

Still bound, the Wolf snapped his jaws and howled, "Don't you dare touch him, you bloody arse!"

The King snapped his fangs together before reaching forward with another of his legs and stroking his original's head, careful not to scratch the Wolf with his claws. "Come now, original… I'm not going to do that much harm…" He chuckled softly before bringing Peter up to his mandibles and gently feeling him with them, "But… I do need to punish you for escaping still…"

The Wolf's blood chilled before he hissed, "If you punish someone, punish me! Don't touch Peter!"

"Oh, why not? He looks so delicious…" The King let a long spool of sticky saliva fall from his mouth, which landed directly in on the Wolf's cheek.

Flinching, the Wolf writhed angrily, feeling not-Hansel struggle under the webbing as he was forced into uncomfortable positions, "Don't you dare eat him!" He nearly yelped when not-Hansel scratched at one of his open wounds, but only stilled.

The King took a small step back, swinging Peter dangerously close to his mouth, laughing dryly, "Remember who is in charge here, original. You betrayed me; I was giving you a life where all you had to do was _live_ and_ be taken care of, _and you threw it away. I'm feeling a great deal of resentment right now… But I think a little snack before a good meal will help it."

"Don't hurt, Peter, you-"

Ignoring the Wolf's fearful cry, the King brought Peter back up to his mandibles, which immediately seized him and drew him into the drooling mouth which hid behind them. Peter's horrified squeaks grew muffled as the King closed his mouth, a bit surprised that he could fit all of the little Wolf into his mouth. It must have grown because of the demon stone.

"Spit him out! Spit him out, you git!" The Wolf howled, rolling onto his back and inadvertently squashing not-Hansel for a moment. He snapped angrily at the air, furious milky eyes glaring up at the King.

With a muffled laugh, the King reached up, opened his mouth, and dragged a wailing Peter out of his mouth. He coughed away the tickling feeling that the little wolf's struggles had left against the roof of his mouth before lilting, "I'll swallow him whole, original. It'll let him live a little longer. How's that? It's better than watching me rip him apart right here."

"Don't eat him at all!" The Wolf's eyes grew wet with tears of anger and stress. Inside, frustration welled up to the point that it felt hard to breathe, each breath coming raspy and quick.

The joints where the King's legs connected to his body did a small jerky movement, his version of a shrug, before the foreleg holding Peter moved once again to his mouth. Peter screeched as the mandibles dragged him yet again into the drooling mouth, past the sharp, grinding teeth that no spider should have had, and then into darkness, as the jaws shut.

For a few moments, the King battled with his little prey, struggling to swallow while the little wolf twisted and scratched and kicked at the back of his mouth, refusing to be forced down the narrow throat, but, finally, he managed.

The Wolf stared up at him, lost, before bursting into tears. "Please… Please… Throw him up. Please… Don't take him from me…" His tense muscles slumped into a state of miserable uselessness.

The King crouched low before sneering, "He wriggles."

Underneath the webbing, not-Hansel listened with wide eyes, knowing if he was caught, he would likely suffer the same fate, except not with the grace of being swallowed whole. He would be ripped apart and eaten slowly, which was a death that did not suit his fancy. Cowering against the Wolf, he shivered violently.

The Wolf registered the movement through his tears, but paid no attention. This was it! Peter was gone! He was there, dying in the King's stomach, like the little morsels he himself had swallowed would have been dying all these years now! Was this how Red felt when she realized her grandmother had been eaten and would soon, or perhaps already, was dead? It was a horrible feeling! A horrible feeling that he would never be able to caress his little son again, to comb the blonde fur, to help him around whenever he was tired, to feed him, to play with him, to read him those stupid bedtime stories. Never again would he be able to do any of those, all because he had been stupid and had given a necklace to Red! It was all his fault! If he had never tied that necklace around Red's neck, then he wouldn't have been taken to De Lille, wouldn't have had a memory eater of him try to eat Peter, wouldn't have had been brought into this horrid world, where the people were blood-thirsty snakes and scorpions and spiders and the rabbits ate mice and-

Snakes. Not-Hansel. _Venom_.

Violently wrenching his arm up under the webbing, the Wolf bared his teeth when he felt his elbow connect with not-Hansel's face. Heedless of the fact that the King would hear him, he snarled, "Bite me!"

The King's mandibles twitched, "No, I'm not going to kill you, original."

Underneath the binding webbing, not-Hansel clutched at his bleeding nose, swearing silently. Was the original crazy? Bite him?

With a furious snarl, the Wolf rolled over onto his side, pinning not-Hansel between himself and the ground. While the snake struggled violently, unable to make noise due to the fact that he couldn't breathe with the Wolf atop of him, he snarled, "Do it!"

The King's fangs clicked, "No."

Not-Hansel gagged and gasped, clawing at the Wolf's side. Finally, a grating rasp made it out, "W-w-wolf!"

Immediately, the King was up, the black-brown hairs that covered him on end, "What was that?"

The Wolf flinched before pushing down harder on the snake.

Then, the pain he wanted: two distinct pinpricks at his side. Immediately relaxing, the Wolf let himself roll back onto his back and turned his head slowly to the King's, "I die, you die. That's the rule… right?" Already, he could feel the venom pushing through him; already was there a faintness to his vision and a garbling of the sounds around him. Thankfully, it wasn't as painful as he thought.

With a gasp, not-Hansel dragged himself out of the webbing before retching up a bit of bile, clutching at his side.

Immediately, the King froze, staring, before saying weakly, "No… Y-y-you didn't…"

The Wolf smiled softly, his eyes out of focused and his mind slowly shutting down. Staring up at the sky, he nodded gently before slurring, "All… for Peter… My little… Peter…" Before his mind's eyes was the image of his wife, turning, their newest child sleeping in her arms; the image of a little toddler jumping out from behind a curtain and latching upon his leg with giggles; and, finally, the image of a 

small little wolf, broken before he was even really started, shivering against his chest, crying and whimpering.

That was his Peter...

His little Peter…

And, with those last thoughts fading away to a pounding black, the Wolf closed his eyes, drew his last breath, and died.

* * *

**OOC: ... The Story is Not Over, don't worry. However, it was this update, or waiting three or four more days of the same update with the first part of next chapter...  
**


	69. Back to Home and the Hansel Condition

Everything faded away. The trees, the ground, the sky, his friends, and his son all disappeared, turning to a black midnight.

Dark shadows, ravenous, lusty, came for him, scratching at him, pulling out his heart, slowly filling his lungs with water. Everytime he tried to struggle, he could not, his muscles frozen with the rigor of death. As the things grew more confident, moving to the more tender areas of his body to dig their claws and teeth in, leaving no marks but bringing agony, the Wolf felt something brush tenderly at his ears. His eyes rolled up, and he saw a shivering image of the air-mirror, fading in and out of focus, smiling sadly.

"A minute."

The air-mirror faded before lancing agony, the pain of an infinite amount of corkscrews turning slowly into his flesh, came. The muscles in his back twinged as he tried to arch his back and screech, but couldn't. Thankfully, the pain faded within seconds.

The air-mirror reappeared, this time accompanied by another small child. This one, a girl, knelt, pressed a hand against the Wolf's nose before kissing it and whispering, "Two minutes."

They disappeared.

Horrid pain throbbed up from his chest, and the Wolf felt tears slide down his cheeks as he screamed inwardly.

When this new pain faded away, the Wolf felt the little pattering of small feet upon his chest, stared upwards until the air-mirror's little face came into his view, eyes inquisitive and smile impish. The little girl's glowing, happy face presented itself the next moment, followed by a new visage.

The Wolf choked when he saw the familiar face of his wife, his eyes rolling madly as he struggled to say something, say _anything_, but no words came.

A small smile pushing up at the edges of her lips, the apparition lilted, "Three minutes, Icarus. Wake up now, or you never will."

The Wolf stared at her with wide eyes. Wake up? He was dead! He was dead and seeing dead people!

The air-mirror and the little girl moved to the side as the Wolf's wife knelt down upon his chest, eyes soft, "Please, Icarus… Peter is safe now. It's safe to wake up now. Please do." She bent forward, nuzzled the Wolf's cheek, stroked his ears, and licked the tip of his nose.

The Wolf sobbed, a pitiful sound that stayed in the back of his throat.

The air-mirror's and the little girl's faces grew panicked, and their voices, fading in and out, warned, "Four…" They flickered before disappearing once more.

However, the Wolf's wife stayed. Petting the Wolf's face, she whispered, "Icarus… Please wake up…"

Underneath it lay an echo, a harsher voice hissing, "Wake up!"

Suddenly, the darkness that lay around him and the loved apparition that knelt on his chest disappeared, cracking into small pieces and shattering.

"Wake up!"

* * *

The Wolf gagged, coughing up water as the water-mirror pulsed around his heart, the liquid shrieking his enjoyment as he felt a beat again.

Irit stared at him as the Wolf sat up, clutching at his chest, eyes wide and glazed. Hacking, his coughs hoarse and ragged, he choked before spitting up a small amount of watery vomit and slumping back down, gasping for air.

The water-mirror curled around the Wolf's heart, his low voice purring, "Thought you were dead there for a minute."

The Wolf stared upwards, his ears ringing, his mind numb. What… what had happened? Where had the darkness gone?

"Wolf?"

No answer.

"Wolf…" The water-mirror poured out of one the cuts on the Wolf's chest before wrenching up into his tall form. Liquid, black eyes glittering, he grunted, "If you're going to ignore us, than, by all means, die again."

The Wolf snatched out mentally at the many whirling, confused thoughts that flitted just out of reach in his brain. After a few dizzying moments, he finally settled upon one and, turning his head to the side a little, he rasped weakly, "P… P…Peter…"

From behind Irit, not-Hansel's voice sing-songed, "He's okay. Just a bit ruffled, that's all." He poked his blondish head from behind Irit's tail, so the Wolf could see him, before trotting up with his little bundle. In his arms, thoroughly matted and exhausted, lay a sleeping Peter, who whimpered softly into not-Hansel's shirt.

The Wolf's eyes stayed upon Peter for quite a few moments before he tried to sit back up; however, a dizzying headache forced him back down. "And… the… the-"

"The King?" Irit suggested.

"…Yes…" whispered the Wolf.

"The minute you died, he shattered. At worst, Peter has a few cuts under that fur of his, but nothing more, don't worry."

"… And… Red…?"

"Still unconscious."

"… Mmm…" The Wolf could hardly smile, but smile he did as he let his eyes flutter shut, "I could sleep too… I'm so… tired."

Obviously disgruntled, the water-mirror grumbled, "Just as long as it's not the _wrong_ kind of sleep, the one I just woke you up from. You would have been dead if I hadn't come through the King's blasted mirror-band trying to eat his head. Too bad you already had killed him… Along with yourself!" He stomped down on the Wolf's chest.

The Wolf gagged, the pressure the soft stomp making the air in his lungs rush out. When the water-mirror quickly jumped down, realizing what he had done, he growled hoarsely, "Well, thank you for… waking me up…" He coughed.

The mud by his snout rippled with the cough before a small tendril wormed up, clawing at the air. Next moment, the earth-mirror wrenched up, dripping mud as dust swirled from her hair. Latching a piercing glare on the water-mirror, she snapped, "The upheaval starts in twenty minutes. If you want them out, do it _now_."

Not-Hansel paled and Irit clicked nervously, shuffling on their feet uneasily.

"Up…upheaval?" moaned the Wolf.

"Since there's no King, every mirror in the region is going to stop working and might even shatter. Anyone wearing a mirror-band is going to have that limb pretty much cut up," She cast a warning glare at not-Hansel, who immediately flinched, "and there'll be no travel. Nothing will be right again till the strongest person takes the throne."

Not-Hansel smiled meekly, "Just like last time…"

The water-mirror grinned sharply, "That means politics, and it's something I despise. No. Not for me."

For a few moments, there was silence, the mirror-creatures casting suspicious glances at each other.

Finally, the earth-mirror snarled, "Oh, so I have to take them back?"

Instantly, the water-mirror was leaning against his sister, moaning as he feigned exhaustion, "Oh, sister… Would you? I'm so tired after resuscitating our lovely little friend here, not to mention absolutely bloated from our meal… You ate less. You take them. Besides, your mirror is _in_ the town, no?"

"Yes, but I couldn't do that to- to… my owner!"

"Yes, but please…? What if Red was… let's say, friends with your owner?"

The earth-mirror narrowed her eyes, "How so?"

"They've talked before, and she's gone to him for help sometimes."

"… I don't think-"

With an irritated sigh, the water-mirror snapped, "Just do it, or _I'll _take them through_ your _mirror and… you know… eat your owner?"

The earth-mirror glared at him, "I wouldn't care less except for the fact he takes very good care of me. Polishes me even. And you? You're just stuck in a hole."

The water-mirror's left eye twitched as he hissed, "So… the answer is…?"

"Fine… I'll take the originals home."

A small smile pushed up at not-Hansel's lips, "Will that mean I'll be able to take off this blasted mirror-band for the first time in two weeks?"

"Yes." Said the water-mirror, distracted by the glare his sister was shooting at him.

With a soft cough of delight, not-Hansel bent, laid the sleeping Peter down on the Wolf's chest, and then clapped his hands excitedly, "Ooh, yes, yes, yes! This skin is getting so uncomfortable!" He scratched at his arms before moaning, eyes fluttering at the thought of finally being able to take off his discomforting disguise.

The Wolf's eyes rolled in their sockets so he could peer down at the blond ball of fur that lay on his chest. Smiling, he reached up with weak, trembling arms, rested them on Peter, and murmured, "I'm so glad… you're okay…"

Peter dozed on, shivering against his father's chest.

* * *

"Dah dah dah dun dun…"

Humming happily, Pinocchio watched himself in the mirror as he absently brushed a small square of sandpaper against his fingers, smoothing them. Today was a fine day! The winter had finally died down, and now the spring was creeping up upon them, soon to leave the fresh scent of flowers and talk of baby animals in the air.

Turning around, Pinnochio set down his little square of sandpaper before picking up a small bottle of varnish. Unscrewing the top, he dipped a fine paintbrush in, withdrew it, and then began to paint the tips of his fingers. This made sure that he wouldn't leave splinters should he go to touch a person.

A clink came from behind him, and he paused to glance behind. Nothing but his mirror.

Sighing, Pinocchio set his varnish and his paintbrush down, turned to the mirror, and brushed a hand against the edges. It was getting dusty again! Why did it collect so much dust in so littl-

Suddenly, a startled face pushed out of the mirror, followed by distended shoulders, arms, and legs. Squeaking, Pinocchio stumbled back, tripped over himself, landed on his rear with a hard –oomph!-, and stared as the Wolf clutched at the thick rug he had landed on, gasping for air.

He was absolutely covered in dust.

Next moment, a small, blonde wolf rolled out of the mirror, landing on the Wolf's back. With a high-pitched squeak, he sat up and rubbed furiously at the dust that invaded his eyes before yelping as yet another body, this one of a familiar young girl, fell from the mirror to knock him over. And, finally, a little, black wolf, burbling happily, crawled from the mirror's surface, missed the edge of the counter, and fell onto the back of Red.

Pinocchio stared, his wooden eyes wide.

"What… what the-"

The mirror's surface clouded before the irritated face of the earth-mirror presented itself. Crossing her arms, she cocked her head to the side, watching Pinocchio with her narrowed eyes, "I'm sorry about this, but my brother forced me. And polish me after this. I deserve it." She let the angry look fall from her face to be replaced by a joking smile, and, with a giggle, she disappeared back into the depths of the mirror.

Red, her eyes still out-of-focus from the exhaustion that remained after her fainting, sat up with a moan, and then hastily caught the memory eater as he began to tip over. She had woken up just minutes before the earth-mirror had thrown them through the mirrors and a nasty headache now plagued her brain. Turning blurry eyes to Pinocchio, she moaned, "Pi… nocchio?"

Peter sat up besides her, coughing to rid his throat of dust. "The wooden man? Why are we here?"

The Wolf groaned, "I don't care, just as long as there's a bed nearby... I just want to sleep…"

With a nervous squawk, Pinocchio stood and staggered close, "Am I just dreaming, or did you…. Just fall out of… my mirror…?"

The Wolf's long, distended arm reached out, and Pinocchio could not help but shudder as the disjointed fingers closed around his legs. A whine underlying his words, the Wolf moaned, "You're talking too loud… We've just been through hell, so… could you please save the questions for-"

"Wait! Red! You have to come with me!" Pinocchio's eyes grew wide before he seized Red's arm in his hands, pulled her up, and started for the door. The memory eater, still in Red's arms, sniffled loudly, as if to ask, "What?"

Peter squeaked as the Wolf sat up. His eyes wide, the gray beast asked hastily, "Where are you taking Red?"

"To Hansel." Coughed Pinocchio, hesitating at the door.

"Hansel can wait." Grumbled the Wolf, laying back down and pulling Peter into the crook of his arm.

Pinocchio released Red's arm, crossed his arms, and shuffled his feet as he said quietly, "You don't know what happened, do you?"

"Hmm?" Red petted the memory eater's head as he twisted in her arms, squirming.

"…Well… at the moment… Hansel… is in the hospital…"

* * *

If there was one thing that Red never expected to see, it was Hansel laying on a hospital bed, his head bandaged, unmoving and quiet. His chest fell up and down in quiet rhythm while his fingers twitched at his side.

Red squeaked and started forward, but Pinocchio's wooden hand clutched her shoulder to stop her. "What happened?"

"Your next door neighbor heard a gunshot and… called us…" Pinocchio scratched his head nervously. "I guess… he tried to shoot himself."

Red tried to escape his grasp, "Can I go closer? Please? Is he okay?"

"He's fine. Just a bit… different when he's actually awake."

"Different?"

"… You can see for yourself, if you want to. We just have to tell a nurse." Pinocchio turned, motioned to a nurse, who immediately nodded, seeming to know what they were wanting to do.

Immediately, Red hurried to the bedside. Leaning over him, eyes worried, she called, "Hansel? Hansel? Are you okay?"

Hansel remained asleep, his right eye closed peacefully. The white bandages covered all of left side of his face, but a few strands of blonde hair still stuck out from beneath the cloth.

Red reached up and shook at his shoulder, "Hansel?"

Instantly, the ice-blue eye flickered opened, the pupil dilated and the white area around the iris laced with red veins. It lolled to the side for a moment before rolling about to lock onto her face.

With a soft moan, he reached up with a trembling hand and caressed her cheek, "Gretel…"

Red took his hand and stroked it, smiling gently, "Hello, Hansel… Why did you do such a thing? You shot-"

Hansel's hand covered her mouth before she could complete her question. Struggling up, he looped his arms around her neck and pulled her closer. "Please stay…. Don't leave…"

Red struggled a bit, for the way he was pulling her forward made the wooden side of the bed dig into her lower belly in the most uncomfortable way. "Hansel… Could you please… let go…?"

His hands curled up into the back of her dirty, dusty shirt as he hissed softly, as if to say, "No." His arms kept pulling her towards him.

A sigh came from the other side of the bed, and Hansel stiffened before turning his one visible eye to Pinocchio, teeth bared in an angry, silent snarl. "Oh, Hansel… How are you today?"

At the question, Hansel's eyes grew wide before a somewhat dumb smile lit up his face, "Can…. Dee?"

Pinocchio sniffed, "Mmm…. Again?"

"Candy?" Red blinked before squeaking as Hansel dragged her further onto the bed, all the while staring at Pinocchio's heavy coat's pockets with hungry eyes.

With a sigh, Pinocchio reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, paper-wrapped candy.

Instantly, Hansel sat up, arms outstretched and fingers clawing at the air, totally oblivious as he elbowed Red out of the way. Squawking, Red clutched her chest, where Hansel's elbow had connected, and watched as her 'brother' staggered up out of bed.

Pinocchio backed away, eyes narrowing just a bit, "Now I will show you what I meant by different."

Hansel, looking pale and frail in his thin white hospital clothes, tottered towards Pinocchio, eye glazed with want, "Give… me… candy…"

Pinocchio wagged the paper-wrapped candy with a hesitant frown, "I have one right here, Hansel."

Moaning, Hansel reached for it slowly again, only to find Pinocchio backing away further, taking the bonbon away from him. He froze, his one eye widening before narrowing.

With a sudden growl of anger, Hansel lunged forward, bowling Pinocchio over with a tackle. The candy went skittering across the floor, and after it went Hansel, who caught it up, clutched it against his chest, and giggled happily.

Red stared before turning her eyes back to Pinocchio as he coughed, "Well, that's the least of it… Seems Hansel has an… obsession with candy at the moment. He never eats it though."

Tottering back to the bed, Hansel nodded obliviously, eye fixated on his new treasure. He sat down, sighed happily, and then leaned over to lay his head upon Red's shoulder with a quiet sigh of happiness.

Pinocchio waited for another moment before coughing, "Other than that, he has a small collection of candies in that box on his bedside table," He motioned to the crude, wooden box that could have held acorns or matches by the looks of it, "and he doesn't like people touching it."

Red smiled, reached for it.

A small noise came from her shoulder, and she glanced back to see Hansel's lips curved up in a happy smile. "My candy box…" His voice slid off into a purr.

"Can I have a piece?"

Hansel's head bobbed up and down, "Yes, yes."

Opening the box, Red paused when she saw a neat, little assortment of various candies before taking a butterscotch and handing the box to Hansel, who immediately placed his new candy where the butterscotch had been, almost as if trying to replace something important as quickly as possible. After, he regarded the small layer of candy he had and, taking one that seemed a bit too big for the pattern it was in, held it out to Red. "…More?"

Red accepted it before seeing Pinocchio staring at them with wide, wooden eyes. "Something wrong?"

"Well, just the fact that he almost killed a nurse four days ago for trying to take a taffy, yes."

Red choked on the piece of candy, taken by surprise, and began to hack loudly. Hansel squeaked, drew back his hand, and delivered a rather firm blow to her back.

The candy dislodged itself in her throat, and Red coughed it back up to spit it out on the bed sheet. Ignoring Hansel while he tenderly picked it up and rewrapped it, Red snarled at Pinocchio, "He what?"

Oblivious, Hansel put the rewrapped candy back in her hand.

"He nearly strangled a nurse who tried to take a candy." Repeated Pinocchio.

"Hansel!" Red whined, turning to gaze at her brother.

His ice-blue eyes travelled up from the candy in her hands to her face. Seeing the anger in her eyes, he blinked before saying in a rather innocent tone "She was stealing the candy."

"That's no reason to try to kill her!"

Again, Hansel repeated, "Stealing the candy."

"So?"

"Well… The candy was for you." Hansel said defensively, a small note of anger rising into his voice.

"That's no reason…" sighed Red.

Pinocchio coughed, "So… Red… Is Hansel… still living with you?"

Silently, Red nodded, handing back the rewrapped candy back to Hansel.

"Well… He's fine to go home… It's just… If you don't want to take him back… We might have to send him to the asylum…"

Immediately, Hansel lurched up, tense and infuriated, "I am not crazy!"

"What do you call the candy thing then, huh, Hansel?" hissed Pinocchio.

Hansel's face went blank, "Candy?"

Sighing, Pinocchio drew another paper-wrapped candy from his pocket and tossed it to Hansel, who caught it with a joyful laugh. "His insanity's never really been a danger before. He stayed out of town mostly, but he could coexist if he had to. What we're worried about now is what will happen if he sees children with candy running home after school? He'll go after them like lightning just to get at the candy, and I don't want to hear that little kids were _mauled_ or _killed_ in the streets."

Hansel wedged his new candy into the corner of his little box before closing it, setting it at his side, and leaning back onto Red with a lilting sigh, "I missed you, Gretel."

"Not to mention he's a bit slow on what's happening around him."

Red sighed, reached up, and patted Hansel's blonde head as she said, "Well, it can't be all that hard to take care of him. Besides, I have no candy at my house, unless he likes pure sugar. It should be fine."

Pinocchio nodded deftly, eyeing Hansel with distrusting eyes. "I just hope he gets better. For his own sake."

* * *

While Pinocchio had been taking Red to the hospital to visit Hansel, the Wolf had grown bored at the puppet's home, irritated that the wooden man had no soft bed where he could rest, but grew even more annoyed when he found no food in the house. With Peter's stomach grumbling alongside his own, he decided he was strong enough to make it to Red's house, where a nice, soft bed and a few tidbits of food would be waiting.

The snow had all but melted away, and the sun was already high in the sky. Sneaking through alleyways, down unused corridors, a task he usually deemed tiring, turned quickly into a relaxing stroll. The pain in his tired, disjointed limbs eased with the warmth, and he was tempted to lay down and take a nap, but the thought of a bed and food kept him going, as did the excited, quiet squeaks of the two children on his back.

He finally reached Red's house. Forcing open a window, he pushed Peter in, handed him the memory eater, inched in after them, took a few moments to rest on the floor, and then dragged himself to the kitchen.

Half of the food had spoiled while Red had been gone in the mirror world, but the Wolf couldn't be more happy than to fill his stomach. Leaving the better pieces of food for Peter and the curious memory eater, he swallowed down spoiled cheese, rotting meat, and even had a few wilted vegetables before falling asleep next to the cold stove, satisfied.

Peter soon joined him, curling up next to his father and clutching at his fur as he quickly fell to sleep. As for the memory eater, he just sat there, staring at the two sleeping wolves as he nibbled on the tip of an asparagus, which had been deemed uneatable by the two. He liked it, to a certain extent, and continued to gnaw at it until his attention was drawn away by a few scraps of hard bread that had escaped Peter.

By the time Red came back to her home, Hansel following her with a vacant stare on his face, the memory eater had succeeded in climbing the mountain of fur that was the Wolf and had fallen asleep draped over his back.

"Be careful." Warned Pinocchio, nodding goodbye to Red as he pushed Hansel past the door frame. Eye vacant, smile foolish, the wounded hunter staggered down the hall as Red stayed behind to thank the puppet. The hospital had provided him with a clean, cheap white shirt and some brown trousers that had been worn down to the point that the surface, which should have been smooth, was fuzzy. The bandages still wrapped around his head to hide the left side of his face. At his side, clutched in his tapered fingers, was his candy box.

Red closed the door, leaned against it, and listened as the crunch of Pinocchio's footsteps faded away as she sighed. What a tiring day… But finally! They were home!

Standing up straight, she hurried after Hansel, came to his side, and then tugged at his sleeve. He stopped, turned a confused eye to her, and asked, "What is it, Gretel?"

Red was wondering whether or not anything else had been affect in Hansel's mind. Drawing back just a little bit, she asked, "Do you remember where your room is?"

Hansel blinked, "Mmm…." Raising his head up, he glanced around before turning his eye to the closest door and pointing, "That one?"

"No… that's the kitchen." Sighed Red, grabbing his arm and tugging him towards the kitchen door. "And you're probably hungry. Let's see if there's anything to eat."

"Eating… Is good…" Hansel rose a finger to his lips and chewed at it gently.

Red rolled her eyes before pushing him into the kitchen.

Immediately, Hansel's eye flitted to the wolves that lay sleeping in the corner of the room. Pausing, he turned their way before sniffling and, pointing a finger, asking, "I see Peter and the Wolf, but who is… the little one…?"

Red smiled, "You remember them? That's good. The little wolf is… oh, you haven't met the memory eater yet, have you?"

Cocking his head, Hansel echoed, "Memory eater..." With a staggering step, he tottered over, knelt by the Wolf's side, and then stared at the little, dozing black pup.

Red smiled softly, turned, and then grimaced when she saw the scraps of food littering the counter. Brushing away a little shred of somewhat brownish, raw chicken, she paused when she heard a small noise from behind her.

Hansel's arms pushed over her shoulder and crossed in front of her, a wrapped candy held in his fingers. His suddenly tired and quivering voice whispered, "Candy…?"

Red snorted and raised a hand to brush it away. "No, I'm not in the mood for candy right now. Actually, I think I lost my appetite with all this mess."

Hansel stared at her, his eye dim and wet and the mind behind them lost. He held out the candy again, "But this will help…"

"Why don't you eat it?"

Glancing down at the candy in surprise, he sniffled softly before murmuring, "I can't."

"Why not?"

Hansel shuddered violently before turning around and, with a somewhat familiar gait to his steps, stalked over to the wolves again. Climbing up onto the Wolf, he sat there, an angry look on his face, a look that would have made him almost look like the old Hansel if he hadn't been bandaged.

Red watched him warily, "What are you doing?"

Leaning forward, Hansel tugged the memory eater up so he rested on his knee. The little, black puppy dozed on, oblivious.

"Hansel…?"

"…He feels like tar kind of…" Hansel's pale hands closed around the memory eater's middle and gently pulled him up.

"What are you-"

"Does he taste like tar?" Hansel sniffed at the memory eater's ear, blinked, and then licked the tip of it. Instantly, he grimaced, set the pup back down, and groaned.

Enraged, Red snarled, "Why do you ask?"

"Because he feels like tar and I thought he might taste like it too." Hansel regarded the memory eater with a distrusting eye, "Apparently so."

Red rolled her eyes and pouted, "Will you come down from there?"

"Why?" asked Hansel, his solitary eye peering down at her.

"Because we don't want to wake them up, dummy! Come on, we need to go get food anyways. We can go to the store together and get some stuff." Red groaned inwardly. She really didn't want to 

take Hansel to the store, but she didn't want to let him stay here either. What if he tried to do something bad to the wolves?

Hansel nodded absently, "As long as it's with you, Gretel." Turning, he slid down from his post atop the Wolf, hurried over to her, and smiled brightly. The bandages crinkled upwards a bit.

Red glared at him, "But you have to promise to behave."

"Yes, Gretel."

"Promise?"

"Yes, Gretel."

"Good then."

"Yes, Gretel." Hansel echoed, his eyes empty. His voice held the note of extreme exhaustion in it.

Staring at him, Red hesitated before raising her hand and waving it before his eyes. When they didn't follow the movement, she sighed, tapped his shoulder, "Hansel, wake up."

"Hmm?" Hansel shuddered awake, blinking furiously.

"You fell asleep with your eyes open or something."

Hansel pursed his lips before sniffling, "Did I? Perhaps I need a something to drink…" Tottering about, he opened the nearest cupboard, glanced at the saucers and plates, and then sighed, "Where's there something to drink."

"We don't have anything to drink. That's why we are going to the _store_." Cooed Red, forcing herself to be patient as she watched her 'brother' make a fool out of himself.

"Oh… okay…"


	70. Monotone

"Do you know what this is?" Red held up an apple in front of Hansel's face.

They were at the market, roaming about the food stores that were all squashed into a single stretch of the main street that ran through the town. There was the Boulanger across the street where the baker made his bread, the Legumerie next door where farmers came to show off their vegetables, and other such stores dotting the avenue, each with their own specialty.

They were in the fruit store at the moment, squeezed into the small place with all the other shoppers .

Hansel's eye slid off to the left, and he tried to avoid the question, "It's crowded here…"

"What fruit is this?" Red tapped the apple against the side of his head lightly.

"… It's a… an… apple?"

"Yes." Red turned, made sure the grocer saw her put it away into her knapsack, "Okay then… We've got some vegetables…. Some fruits… some bread… Should we get anything else?"

"…" Hansel turned around, looking about in a lost way, "I want a little bit of meat… Please? Just to go along with the vegetables?"

Red pursed her lips, trying to remember if she had brought enough money to buy meat, "Well, I was just going to buy some vegetables and fruits and-"

"Can you buy me a gun?"

Blinking, Red turned to stare at him with wide eyes, "What?"

"The policemen… they took my gun…"

Recovering from her shock, Red snarled, "No, I will not buy you a gun! Why would I? You tried to kill yourself with a gun, stupid! Why would I buy you another one?"

Hansel matched her angry eyes with his empty one, oblivious to the fact that the small space had amplified their voices and now the other shoppers were staring at them oddly, "Because I want to hunt again."

"No!" Fuming, Red stomped over to the fruit store owner, paid him quickly, and stormed out of the store.

With slow steps, Hansel followed her, gnawing at the tip of his finger. "Gretel, are we going to get meat?"

Red fumed inwardly before growling, "Sorry, don't have enough money."

"But I want meat." Said Hansel in his monotone voice. "I haven't had meat since the reflection sent me back. The hospital liked to give me oatmeal for some reason."

"Well, I'll remember that next time." Hissed Red, a little more forcefully than she needed to.

Hansel paused, his teeth latched around the tip of his finger, and stared at her with his ice-blue eye before asking bluntly, "Are you angry with me?"

Refusing to answer, Red turned, stalked down the street.

Hansel followed like a dog after his master, "You are angry with me, aren't you?"

Unable to take it, Red whirled about and snapped, "You tried to kill yourself because of me. Do you know how miserably guilty that makes me? Why did you do that? Why?"

Hansel seemed taken aback. Taking a step back, his hand twitching up at his side, he stared at her with his naturally cold yet empty eye before cocking his head, "Guilty? Shouldn't that tell you enough…?"

Stiffening, Red gazed at him silently before sniffling, "Because… I wasn't there?"

Hansel's eye glowed suddenly with intense misery as he stepped closer to her. Slowly sliding his arms around her torso before squeezing her tight in a loving hug, he whimpered softly, "Don't say that… It'll never happen again… I won't let it…" He nuzzled her neck gently and breathed, "Gretel…"

Red stood stock-still for a moment before hissing angrily, shoving him away, turning on her heel, and stomping away from him. Her guilty feeling was nowhere to be found now that Hansel had done a familiar action.

Hansel followed at her heels, solemn.

For the next few minutes, Red and Hansel walked silently, each consumed in their thoughts, each shooting secret glances at the other. The cobbled road underfoot squelched; the mud left over from the melting snow had yet to leave.

Red fumed inwardly. She had hated when the old Hansel had grown sentimental and had hugged her, whimpering after his 'Gretel'. But, somehow, this new, quieter, forgetful Hansel annoyed and scared her much, much more. His vacant eyes, his illogical desires... She wanted the old Hansel back.

Sighing, she turned, about to ask Hansel if he wanted to stop by Blue's dad's tavern for a hot chocolate, hoping to soften the hard silence that had fallen about them.

Hansel wasn't there.

Blinking, Red stared down the street before glancing about wildly, eyes widening as her mind spiraled into a panic. She had promised Pinocchio that she would take care of Hansel! She didn't want him hurting himself or somebody else!

Hurrying forward, she called, "Hansel? Hansel?"

A small shriek met her call, obviously too high-pitched for Hansel. Red stopped, trying to figure out where the sound had come from, and then hurried towards the small alleyway where it had come from.

She saw Hansel first, his back to her, his shoulders hunched, jerking a bit to side to side. "Han-" With a squeak, she froze, seeing a little hand claw frantically at Hansel's side.

Hansel turned his head towards her, the eye not hidden by the bandages glittering wildly. For a moment, he stood still, watching her intently, before recognizing her and turning towards her with a frustrated snarl. Trapped in his arms was a little girl, who struggled against his hold as his hand tried to pry one of her little fists open.

"She won't give me the," he faded as he readjusted his hold on the little girl before finishing his statement, "candy!"

Red recovered from her shock, bared her teeth in an angry frown, and hissed, "Hansel! Let her go!"

"No! Not until she gives me the candy!" With a growl, Hansel dropped the girl and, before she could escape, pushed her over. Kneeling over her, face red with anger, he snapped, "Give me it!"

The little girl, stubborn, stuck out her tongue at him.

With a snarl, Hansel latched his hands about her throat and tightened his fingers, "Give me the-"

Next moment, Hansel fell to his side, dazed, as Red stood like a threatening thunderstorm above. Clenched in her hands was the bag full of fruits and vegetables she had used to smack him off the girl.

The little girl scrambled up and hurried from the alleyway, red-faced and crying.

"Hansel! What the heck do you think you were doing?"

With a soft moan, Hansel stood and glared in the direction that the girl had disappeared in, "She was taunting me with a butterscotch."

"She was not taunting you! You're just being…" Red hesitated, "a bit crazy."

Instantly, Hansel's right eye locked on her face, and a blush crossed his cheeks. Slowly staggering up, he rubbed at the left side of his face, where her bag had connected. "Crazy…? You don't really… think that, do you, Gretel?"

"… Hansel… I think it because you _are_."

With a groan, Hansel started forward, "Gretel… I'm not crazy…. Don't say that…"

"You just attacked a little girl because she had a butterscotch candy! You don't think that's bad?"

"But… I need the candy…"

"You're not going to eat it, and neither am I! Why do you need it?"

"… I… I just… Because…" Hansel scuffed his foot against the ground, "I need it…"

"But why do-"

Red's question faded away abruptly as the loud, indignant voice of a woman came from behind them, "You there! What did you do to my daughter?"

Turning, Red watched in horror as a short and somewhat stocky woman stalked into the alley, the little girl Hansel had attacked peeking out from behind her with large, frightened eyes.

Hansel didn't seem to notice to woman, for his eyes had rooted upon the little piece of wrapped candy still clutched in the girl's hand. His right eye lit up with an almost hungry glow, and he took a step forward, fingers twitching at his sides.

Red hurried to him and stood in front of him, glaring at him and the lady. To the woman, she directed, "I'm sorry about that, but my friend here isn't right in his head right now."

"Brother…" corrected Hansel under his breath, still staring at the candy.

"That doesn't give him the right to beat my little girl. She has bruises on her neck, you know!" The woman pointed angrily at her daughter, who cowered slightly away from the pointed finger.

Hansel's voice grew ragged with want, "She wouldn't have those if she had given me the candy." A look of pain came across his face, as if the separation from that one piece of candy was making little needles push into his brain, torturing him.

A look of utmost confusion across the woman's face, and Red hastily tried to explain, "He just wanted the candy."

"Then buy him his own!"

Red flinched. She could just imagine what would happen if she took Hansel to a candy store, "… I would, but-"

With a sudden snarl, Hansel rushed forward, nearly bowling Red over, and pounced upon the woman. Down they fell, but Hansel just scrambled on to grab the leg of the frightened, little girl, "Give it to me, brat!" He snapped his teeth around her wrist, eye furious.

Yelping, the girl let her fist open, and the candy was immediately in the fist of Hansel, who leapt up like a jackrabbit, scampered back to Red, and, grabbing her, towing her down the alleyway at a run.

* * *

Within a minute or two, they were two blocks away from the alley. The weak Hansel slowed, panting heavily, a cold sweat covering his skin, but otherwise happy. Turning, smiling happily with his somewhat pink-stained teeth, he held out the little candy, gazed at it as if it were a diamond, and then offered it to Red with a cooing sigh, "For you."

Red ripped her hand from his grip, face crimson with frustrated fury, "I don't want it. What do you not understand about that?"

Hansel smiled brightly, "I understand it completely. But there's always the next time you want a candy."

"I won't want _any_ candy if I know you've stolen it by beating up little girls!" hissed Red.

"Hmm…" Hansel's eye flickered a bit.

Red glared at him intently as his head slumped off to the side, his brain slowing down as his heart did. When she finally waved her hand in front of his face, he didn't respond. Apparently, he had fallen back into the sleep-like daze once again.

Snorting, Red turned, stomped away. Hansel was not a problem if he was unresponsive to the world, asleep and locked back into his mind for the time being. Besides, leaving him here to himself till 

he woke up was punishment enough; he would wake up, panic when he couldn't find her, and fret and worry till he finally returned to the house. Perhaps then he would listen to her.

Behind her, Hansel's lips parted slightly to let a small snore pass through.

* * *

The Wolf was waiting for Red when she walked in through the door.

"Food. You've got food?" His eyes were bright and eager, even though he had wedged himself into a corner so he could start trying to massage his sore muscles.

"Yes. Lots of food." Red pulled out a head of lettuce from her knapsack.

The Wolf watched Red's hand dip in and out of the sack, bringing out many different types of fruits and vegetables and laying them out on the dirty counter. It was only when she turned, the knapsack in her hand, did he grumble, "Where's the _meat_?"

"Huh?"

"You didn't get meat?" moaned the Wolf, "Oh, what a horrible person you are! You did that on purpose, didn't you?" Even though there was a tone of disappointment in his voice, there lay a hint of a joke.

Peter tottered into the room, the memory eater windmilling his little arms and legs to keep up at a crawl behind him. When Peter stopped, he bumped up against his legs, sniffled, glanced around in a moment of startled surprise, and then latched little black eyes onto Red. Immediately, he snuffled a happy noise, gurgled, and lifted his arm with a coo, wanting to be held by his friend.

Peter glanced down at his 'little brother' and then glanced at Red with almost wanting eyes, "… Can we sit in your lap? The both of us?"

Red rolled her eyes as she smiled, "I don't think I could manage the two of you. How about one at a time?"

"Can… I go first?"

With a little huff, the memory eater glared at Peter's foot with narrowed eyes, as if to say 'That's _my_ turn you're asking for'.

Before Red could respond, the Wolf piped up, a teasing tone in his voice, "Peter, don't love me anymore?"

"Huh?"

"Only want to sit in Red's lap now, do you?"

"… But… your lap is broken."

The Wolf blinked before shrugging. He began to knead his palms into the sore area right above his knee.

Turning his blue eyes back to Red, Peter asked again, "Can I go first? _Please_?"

Red grinned, walked over to the table with a joyful bounce in her gait, sat on one of the chairs, and motioned to Peter, "Come on."

Instantly, Peter skipped over to Red, pulled himself up onto her lap, and leaned back against her chest as his tail beat against her thighs happily. Scratching gently at his small ear, Red smiled softly as he pushed his head up against her palm, wanting more.

From the corner, the Wolf watched with glittering, grayish-milky eyes before snorting and turning his eyes back to his thighs, which he began to knead in an attempt to regain some sort of feeling in them.

Red felt something brush against her foot. Leaning to the side to peer around the happy Peter, she saw the memory eater, little mouth closed around her bare toes as he sucked gently. His small, watery eyes stared up at her face, asking, "When is it _my_ turn?"

Laughing, Red reached down, hauled the little black wolf up, and wedged him between Peter and herself. Peter's tail stopped its drumming, and he twisted about to grin at his 'little brother'. He opened his mouth, about to say something, but the Wolf glanced up suddenly and asked, "Red, you wouldn't happen to know a debuting doctor who wouldn't mind taking me, would you? My usual one is halfway across the forest and I don't really want to go that far."

Red's smile vanished, "Uhm… Not… really. There's the little hospital near town hall, but I don't think they'd take you."

"… Then could you lure one here and we can _force_ him to take a look at my wounds? And I can eat him afterwards?" The Wolf stuck a claw into one of the wide rips on his abdomen, pulled at it, and grimaced when the piece of fur wilted down to show tense reddish-black muscles. "'Cause it feels like I'm wearing a coat now. I could probably just rip this all off and wait till the next coat grows, however long _that_ takes, but I don't think I'd be comfortable without it…. So I prefer sewing it all together instead of ripping it all off."

"I can sew." Said Red, rolling her eyes.

The Wolf latched suspicious eyes on her, "You know how sterilize a needle? I'm not putting up with another infection, mind you."

Red nodded slowly. She wasn't so sure how long to boil a needle to sterilize it, or how long to hold it over a flame, but she knew heat would do the trick. "I do… know."

The Wolf regarded her, eyes narrowed, "I hear hesitation."

"Well… I haven't sewn _a person _before…"

With a loud, long sigh, the Wolf leaned back and grunted, "Fine. But if you give me an infection, you're in charge of getting me a _real_ doctor. And food. I'm hungry."

Red shook her head, sighing, before bowing her head to nuzzle the back of Peter's head. Giggling, Peter twisted about to hug her and to bury his wet, pink nose into the place where her neck met her shoulder.

While all of this was going on over his head, the memory eater snorted and began to play with his toes, all the while casting little glares up at Peter, as if to say, 'Well, I'm cute too. No reason for him to be the only one getting hugs.'

* * *


	71. Calm Before the Storm

The Wolf finally settled for a carrot after persistent bothering from Red. Chewing at the orange stick solemnly, propped up on his elbow, he twisted to glower back at the girl who sat on his back, sewing up his skin in its torn-up places. After a moment's glare, he turned his head back to a more comfortable position, narrowing his eyes at a moth on the wall.

"Ever wanted to be a doctor?"

"Eww. Yuck, no. I couldn't deal with sewing people up all day."

The Wolf crunched his teeth down into the carrot before cramming it into his mouth and shredding it with his teeth. Glowering, he swallowed it before snorting, "With what you've seen in the mirror world, can't say it would be that much of a shock."

"Hmmph." Red finished looping a length of thread around a tear and pulled it together with a gentle yank.

"Ow!" snarled the Wolf, flinching violently. Teeth bared, he growled forcefully, "Gentle!"

"Not in the very best mood, are you?" sniffed Red, moving to the next cut, which lay across the back of the Wolf's shoulders. She hesitated when she saw the twisted bulges that were the Wolf's shoulder blades and muscles.

"Mmmmmrgh… While you're there, care to give me a good massage….? Might make me happier…" sniffled the Wolf, laying his head down in his arms.

Rolling her eyes, Red took the needle and thread, pushed it through the fur, flinched as there was a small resistance as she pierced skin, and pulled it up towards, her, the thread following. The cloth she used to wipe at a little smear of blood.

The Wolf's breaths became forced as he muttered, "At least a doctor would have made it so it wouldn't _hurt_."

"I can stop if you want." Mumbled Red. "Leave you to have your skin open in some place."

The Wolf paused before grumbling, "Keep going please."

For the next few minutes, Red kept threading the silver thread in and out of the Wolf's skin, pulling the cuts together as best she could. In some parts of his body, the air mirror's tampering had left him so twisted and mangled beneath the skin that there was not enough fur to cover the gash completely. Others, there was extra fur that rippled like water whenever the Wolf moved to growl his discontent.

Peter sat in the corner, watching the sewing-and-patching-up of his father. In his lap wiggled the memory eater, battling a thread Red had given to him. It had entwined itself around his little foot and his paw, and, no matter what he did, he could not remove it.

Finally, after a few relentless attacks on the string, the memory eater started to mewl, his little whimpering noises carrying over to Red and the Wolf.

The Wolf turned his head, ears cocking up. "Hmm…?"

Red sighed, slid off the Wolf's back, and hurried over to where Peter and the whining memory eater sat. Scooping the little black pup up, she cradled him gently, tickling his nose with the end of a finger before picking at the knots of the thread that was knotted about him. "Got yourself tangled up? Awww…"

The memory eater's whimpers died down, his eyes rooting on her face, before he grabbed a handful of her dress and clamped his little teeth down on the fold of cloth.

Red trailed a finger down his ear, "No, no. My dress isn't food."

The memory eater's teeth kept gnawing at the cloth.

"Come on, off you go." Red forced her finger in between the cloth and his mouth.

Curling up into a little ball, the memory eater sighed, as if to say, 'But I'm hungry…'

Red stared down at him before blinking. Glancing over at the Wolf, she asked, "Memory eaters can eat anything right?"

"I think so." Sniffed the Wolf.

"And he's still technically a memory eater right?"

"… Yes?"

A bright smile alighting on her face, Red strode over to the little box she had brushed all the remaining food scraps into and, with a giggle, set the memory eater in.

The memory eater glanced about him, a bit surprised at this sudden change in environment. His small ears stood straight up, swiveling slightly as he twisted about, trying to find a reason why he had been so suddenly placed on a little piles of turkey, carrot, and other food scraps. After a few seconds, he glanced back up at Red, eyes asking, 'What am I supposed to do?'

Giggling yet again, Red kneeled by the trash box, reached in, picked up a scrap of dirty carrot, and held it up to his mouth.

Slowly, the memory eater reached forward, took it from her, turned it in his hands, and then nibbled at the end of it. His little eyes squinted before widening with pleasure, and he began to cram the 

carrot piece into his mouth. However, Red hastily grabbed the end of it and pulled it back as he started to gag.

"Got to eat it slowly." She scolded before handing it back to him.

The memory eater stared at the carrot piece suspiciously before turning his head away, reaching down, and grabbing a small piece of turkey. Holding it up for Red so she could see, he let a small whimper-giggle worm up out of him before shoving it into his mouth.

Red watched him chew for a few seconds before nodding happily and standing. Turning back to the Wolf, she joked, "We've found a garbage cleaner."

"Mmmff." Sniffed the Wolf, petting his stomach, "Don't happen to need a _food_ cleaner too, do you?"

"… You already do that." Snorted Red, glancing at the Wolf.

Peter, from his place against the wall, smiled, "And I'm hungry again too!"

Red flinched. With two hungry wolves in the house, she'd be eaten out of her home by the end of the month! "Um… Can't you go hunting?"

The Wolf's ear twitched before he snorted, "Hunting? You'd defend every little rabbit I brought home for Peter to eat!"

Peter whimpered, "But I don't want to eat any bun-"

Suddenly, vicious knocks from the door drowned out the rest of Peter's sentence. Stiffening, Red listened before cocking her head. Whoever was pounding at the wood seemed angry, judging by the harshness of their blows.

The knocks faded after a few moments, and Red glanced at the Wolf, "Think it was-"

A small cracking noise came from above, and Red's words faded away as she glanced up, eyes wide with confusion. A tell-tale patter of footsteps clinked out from the wooden slates above them, and Red slowly followed the noise with her eyes, keeping them rooted on the ceiling where the noise came through.

The Wolf clicked his teeth, sniffing, "What's that?"

"Don't know." Muttered Red, eyes still on the ceiling.

The footsteps stopped for a moment before a soft sighing sound made itself heard.

Peter's ears cocked before he glanced at the stove, "Hmm?"

The Wolf struggled to sit up, eyes narrowed, "Whatever it is, it's coming down the stove pipe."

Red rolled her eyes, "As if anyone could fit down that!"

Peter propped himself up on his knees, his tail straight and fluffed out, before crawling over to the stove and knocking at the iron-cast side. The dull echo vibrated from inside.

A second later, a small shuffling noise answered him.

Peter sat back on his heels and looked at Red with wide eyes, "There's something in there."

Red glanced at the Wolf.

Sighing, the Wolf shrugged, "Can't be the same person knocking at the door, can it? I mean, the stove pipe's only big enough to fit a rat or a bird at most. No person could fit down it!"

Slowly, Red turned her eyes back to the stove before taking a few tentative steps forward. Reaching out, she grabbed the latch and lifted it hesitantly.

Instantly, the door burst open towards her. Scrambling back, Red squeaked as sticky, ashy water dribbled out of the stove, making weak gasping noises as little tendrils of liquid rose to try to form the form of a hand.

The Wolf's fur rose on end, "What the… Is that who I think it is?"

Red squatted next to the ashy water mirror and poked at the liquid, "I think it is…."

"…Water…" came a wheezing plea.

Red blinked before jumping up, hurrying to get a bucket half-full of water, and running back to pour it over the water mirror.

Immediately, the faint noises stopped, and the puddle twirled slowly, gathering all the offending ashes into one clump before pushing it out to the side. A few threads curled up, flattening to make a malformed hand which clutched at Red's ankle.

Red watched warily as the water mirror struggled up, forming, failing, dropping down, and then reforming feebly. Finally, a somewhat liquid face formed at her knee and whispered, "Any more…? Your world doesn't like me very much at the moment… No… moisture… around here…" The face disappeared before the puddle shuddered and began to crawl slowly to the counter.

The Wolf stared at the puddle before sniffing, "Why are you here?"

The puddle stopped moving before struggling to form again. This time, the water mirror managed to pull his upper chest out of the liquid, the two black pits that were his eyes dribbling droplets of water as he struggled to retain the form. "Came… came to check on my son…. Maybe fix you if you 

need it… And bring my mirror someplace safer…. If it's okay…" Again, he lost control, and water splattered back down.

"Seems like you're really not that well off here."

"It's _different_." Came a snarl from the puddle as it twisted. "Back home, I can leech off the general energy since I'm a general mirror. Here, I can't. So shut up. And you better not," the puddle disappeared, leaving a dripping little boy with algae-cloaked hair glaring at the Wolf, "laugh."

The Wolf sniffed, eyes widening slightly.

The mirror slowly twisted around to cast a dangerous glance up at Red's startled face, "And you better not either. This is the only form I can take without feeling like I'm suffocating."

If the mirror had taken any older form, or had retained the black, emotionless eyes, Red might have been able to refrain from giggling at such a fierce look in such a young face.

She could only laugh.

* * *

**OOC: I am so sorry for how long this has taken to be posted, but I could not figure out what I wanted to do next. However, this is done and over with! I've plotted out the rest of (most) of the story, and the next one shall definitely have some much-needed action in it.  
Hopefully, I'll begin working on it after this Saturday (seeing that my access to computers will be cut off till then) and have it up sometime next week. Again, sorry for the long wait and leaving with you with this restful chapter... The characters will definitely need it for what happens next!  
**


	72. Rebirth

The water mirror sulked for the remainder of the day, stealing away the happily burbling memory eater and hiding under Red's bed, humiliated. Peter came a few times, glancing underneath, wanting to play with his little 'brother', but the water mirror warned him away every time with little hisses and snarls.

When evening finally crept up upon the town, drowning everything in navy blue, the mirror finally crept out of Red's room, stomped into the kitchen with the bubbling memory eater held in his arms like a stuffed toy, and raised his voice to a shrill whine, "What is there to eat…?"

Red glanced back at him before shrugging, "The Wolf left an half-hour ago with his coat and hood on. Said he was going to get a few things to eat since there's nothing left." She turned her attention back to Peter, who she had been combing. The young wolf shivered against her, having fallen asleep during the grooming. At her feet lay the heavy extra blanket she had dug out of the attic to cover Peter, but he had long since pushed it off.

"Hmph." Snorted the water mirror, his little eyes furrowing under the constantly dripping and algae-coated hair. Clacking his sharp teeth at her to show his irritation, he set the memory eater down, slunk over to the trash bin, and leaned over to peer at the scraps inside. Slowly, he reached down, picked up a turkey bone, and then turned it over, regarding it suspiciously. "How long has this been in here?"

"Um… Since earlier today." Red replied, not bothering to look over.

The water mirror nibbled at the end of it cautiously before brightening, deeming it acceptable, and shoving the whole bone into his mouth. Cracking it into little bits quickly with his sharp teeth, he swallowed, reached in for a handful of moist scraps, and then turned yearning eyes towards Red. "Will there be lots of yummy food tonight?"

"Depends on what the Wolf brings back." Red glanced over, saw the handful of wilting vegetable scraps and blackened, rotten meat strips, and asked in disgust, "You're going to eat that?"

The water mirror glanced down at it, blinking, "It's food, isn't it?"

"Yes, but it's _bad_ food."

"Well… you waste stuff." The water mirror crammed the handful of garbage into his mouth, chewed noisily, gulped it down, and then licked at his grimy fingers, baby blue eyes calculating as they watched her. Sniffling, ignoring the trails of rotting meat juices around his mouth, he toddled over, suddenly whimpering, "Do you have any water…?"

"I poured the last of it over you earlier, remember?" apologized Red.

The water mirror looked up at her with tearing eyes, "But I'm losing my water."

Red stared at him before feeling her heart wrench. If he had been in his usual disguise of a cold, frightening, intimidating man, she would have been able to snap a stubborn 'No!', but now that he had reverted back to his 'normal' self, this little boy who looked so tortured…

Sighing, Red gently put her arms around Peter, strained to hold him as she rose to her feet, and then bent to set the little sleepy wolf onto the bunched up blanket. Peter moaned softly before gathering the blanket up around himself and curling up. Red stood, turned towards the water mirror.

With a soft whimper, the water mirror raised his arms and demanded, "Carry me to the well."

Red sighed before kneeling and offering her arms to the water mirror. Instantly, the water mirror's arms looped around her neck, his legs hooked around her waist, and he clung to her as she stood, putting her arms underneath him for leverage. He wriggled a bit to get comfortable before twisting around and gazing at the memory eater. His little hand extended in want. "Carry him too."

"I can't carry both of you, dummy." Red bumped her chin against his head, grimaced when a patch of algae came off to stick to her skin.

"Mm…" The water mirror turned his eyes back to her before reaching forward, picking the algae from his holder's chin, and popping it into his mouse. Suddenly, his eyes lit up, and he began to claw at his hair, pulling long slimy strings of bright green algae to his mouth and sucking at it eagerly.

Red frowned in disgust, "You know, that's pretty gross."

The water mirror's knees squeezed at her sides as he murmured around his mouthful, "I want some water… Take me to the well now. I'm _thirsty_. Or better yet, take me to the river. There'll be fishies there."

Red sighed, "The well's better. I can't leave Peter here all by himself for such a long time."

"But I want _fishies_." Growled the water mirror.

"You can have fishies later. How about a pond instead?"

The water mirror's eyes grew downcast, "Fine… Then… can you tell me where to go? I really need to have some water…" His form began to writhe as he tried to twist up into something obviously bigger, but he failed.

Red set him down before wiping at her shirt, which had been soaked by the close contact with the mirror, "Fine. You go on the main street, head down till you see the church, and it's there in the back."

The water mirror grew still all of the sudden, "A church?"

"Yes, a church."

"…" With a soft growl, the water mirror growled, "How close to the church?"

"In the backyard. It's not actually _part_ of the church, but it's on the property."

"Mmm… I guess that's okay." Whispered the water mirror before biting at the tips of his fingers nervously, "As long as I don't have to go in."

"Why? What's wrong?" asked Red, curious about his unnerved behavior.

The water mirror clicked his teeth at her, "Only place that reflections and mirrors lose all their power. I have hardly any power as it is…. " He shivered before whispering, "'Cause God doesn't have a reflection, and that lack of a reflection gives us no power while we're there."

Red stared at him before slowly nodding, "Okay…"

After a few moments on uneasy silence, the water mirror glanced around before whispering, "How many fishies can I bring back?"

Red smiled at him, "As many as you want." She would want fish if the Wolf brought back a barrelful of meat back from the market.

"Really?" At the prospect, the water mirror tensed, excited, his eyes brimming with sudden boyish competition. "Even a hundred?"

Red nodded, and the water instantly was at the doorway, shivering with delight, "Okay! I'll bring back a hundred fishies for you! Then you'll have to give me a prize, okay?" Without waiting for an answer, he sprinted down the hall, reached the front door, slammed it open, and quickly rushed outside.

Red stared at the kitchen doorway before suddenly shuddering. What if the water mirror actually _did_ bring back a hundred fish?

* * *

The water mirror, to the ordinary passerby, might have been another grungy, hungry little boy jaunting off for a quick dip on a spring day. The wet-darkened cuffs of his pants made soft splishing noises at they hit against the ground, collecting dust, leaving dribbles of water behind in the dirt.

He paused, glancing around, and then smiled happily when he saw the tell-tale steeple of a church. He did a quick little jaunt down the street before latching onto the black iron-wrought fence, and peered up at the weathered building, which half-hid behind aged weeping willows that were colored a slight off-color green-yellow.

However, his eyes cast down within a moment, roving across the grass before locking onto a small pool of water. Immediately, he felt his stomach rumble, and, releasing his tight hold from the fence, skittered down the sidewalk before finally finding a gate. Sticking his hand through a gap in the posts, he grabbed the string that held it locked, yanked down, and then tumbled in as the gate opened.

The ground underneath his feet was wet from a recent watering, causing his rotten shoes to sink deep into the mud, but the water-mirror paid no attention, scrabbling over to the side of the water and throwing himself down. He landed on his knees and palms, face just inches above the water, and stared at the ripples in the water and his non-existent reflection.

"Hur…? Who're you? Never seen you hear before." Came a curious voice from his right.

With a slow growl, the water mirror glanced up before baring sharp teeth at the casually-dressed boy sitting off to the bank on his right. A long wooden branch with a white string attached laid in his hands, the end of the string dangling in the water.

The boy stared at him before sniffing and returning his eyes to the little piece of apple bobbing at the end of the string. "Fine… Don't… talk to me, I… _guess_."

The water mirror snorted before dipping his face to the water and slurping in a mouthful. A few bugs tickled the top of his mouth, but he quickly swallowed them down before sliding his head deeper into the water. He breathed in deeply before freezing as a fish flashed away in the water below him. His stomach grumbled again, and the mirror found himself drooling, his fingers clawing into the soil.

Suddenly, a hand gripped the back of his shirt and hauled him up. Squawking, the mirror writhed before hissing, "What are you doing? Let go of-"

"Are you trying to drown yourself?" came an angry accusation.

"No, no, no! I'm eating! I'm eating!" squealed the water mirror, clawing at the hands on the back of his neck.

The boy let go. "Eating?"

The water mirror snarled at him, his outline contorting as rage overtook him. "I need the water, brat!" With a vicious growl, he threw himself forward into the water, growing transparent as he hit the surface, melding with the clear liquid. It was a welcome addition to himself, a welcome change after being stuck in his pitiful form for such a while.

Drifting down deeper, absorbing more and more water as he went, the mirror eyed a fish who swam close, oblivious to the boy that had blended so perfectly into its watery home. It was a large fish, fat after years of daily feeding, and the mirror wanted it, so badly so.

The fish came closer, its dumb eyes round as it noticed the apple bit bobbing on the surface.

The moment it twitched its fins, ready to head up towards the treat, the water mirror grabbed out at it, his translucent claws hardening and clamping down around the fish. It struggled fiercely until sharp jaws fixed down around it. Not bothering to bite and chew, he extended his jaws, wrapping his 

tongue around the fish, and then dragged it down his throat, grunting gently under his breath. The fish cleared his throat, sliding down into his stomach, and he curled up, petting his stomach, purring in pleasure. Licking his lips, he glanced down and watched the fish twist in his stomach, before suddenly stilling and starting to break apart. The sight sent shivers of pleasure down his spine.

He heard a splash from above, glanced up, and growled when he saw the boy's face, eyes wide, hair wriggling like eels in the water. He watched the boy for a moment, feeling hunger yawn within him, before grinning sharply. Fish meat was good enough, but red meat…

Creeping up towards the surface, he twisted in on himself, twisting up into the form he loved. As his form grew firm, he grew less translucent, his white hair writhing in the water, his eyes deepening to deep, hungry black.

The boy saw him, squeaked, and staggered back from the water's edge as the surface erupted. Chuckling, sharp teeth snapping, the water mirror lunged at the boy, his upper body colored before disappearing into translucent threads of water that sprouted from the suddenly turbulent surface of the water. His claws raked at the air, but missed as the boy leapt back.

Recoiling, snapping his jaws, the mirror lilted softly, "Come here, little boy… I'm _hungry_." He didn't want to chase his prey down. He wanted to stay by the water, absorb more, but he wanted the meat too…

The boy stared at him, eyes wide, and then turned, sprinting away with a loud shriek.

Snarling, the mirror slid back before hacking up a fish bone. He took it from his mouth, flicked it away, and then called up a plush chair to lay back on. Lying down, he mewled slightly before extending himself down into the pond, searching for more fish that he could feed on.

He found two fish almost instantly, caught them, and pulled them deep into his core. Closing his eyes, he thrummed with happiness and scratched at his stomach lazily. Well, since he couldn't have the boy for his lunch, he might as well have as many fish as he could.

"Father! Father! See? There's a monster!"

His eyes sliding open slowly, the water mirror regarded the little boy hungrily, who was dragging along a hesitant man dressed in a black habit. Smiling softly, revealing sharp teeth, he grumbled, "Brought more food for me, boy?"

The boy stopped before clinging to the priest's leg, eyes wide, "See? He wants to eat us."

The priest stared before stuttering, "Y-y-yes… I see…" He cast a glance at the old building next to him, as if confused why a monster would show up so close to a sacred place.

The water mirror straightened before licking the tips of his fingers, brushing his fingers back through his hair, and bowing, "Hello, _Father_. You must forgive my intrusion here. I was just," Dragging a fish up from the depths of the pond, he grabbed it in his right hand, held it up for the two humans to see, and then bit deep into it, "hungry."

The priest gulped before coughing hoarsely, "Well, you won't find too much to eat here, demon."

The mirror chuckled, swallowed down the rest of the fish, and then purred softly, "I'll leave when I've had my fill and I feel like it."

Slowly, the priest and the boy backed away, and the water mirror spat at them, suddenly angry. Again, he had scared away red meat! How stupid of him!

Rushing to the side of the pond, he craned forward, motioned with a finger, look hungry, look eager, "No, no, you needn't be afraid. I can't eat you. You're a _priest_." He snapped his jaws around the word, accenting it. "Why don't you come here? Bring the boy too."

The priest shook his head, "No use tempting a hungry thing." He stepped back, pushing the boy back slightly.

The water mirror grunted softly before pulling himself free of the water, the long strands of liquid separating with long twanging sounds. "Then I'll go over there." With an almost bow-legged step, he tottered towards the priest and the boy, leaning towards the left as his arms bent up, the claws on the end sharpening in anticipation.

The priest turned a pasty white before motioning to the boy, "Go inside. I'll be right in."

The boy rushed away, heading towards the door to the church.

With a hiss, the water mirror drew himself tall, stretching himself until he stood two heads above the priest. Crackling happily, his laughter coarse and grating, he leaned towards the priest and lilted, "Protecting the boy…? How very nice of you…" His tongue slid out, dripping with saliva.

The priest glowered at him, turning his head to meet the mirror's eyes as the mirror prowled around him. "Leave me be."

"No, no…." The mirror extended a hand, reaching for the priest's neck, "I've become quite powerless here in your little world. I need _food_."

The priest watched his hand, unblinking. Slowly, the mirror paused, a bit curious, and asked, "You're not afraid?"

"Why should I be?" challenged the priest.

The water mirror narrowed his eyes, "Hmm…" Bending slightly, he grabbed the priest's robes, pulled the man up until his feet dangled above the ground, and drew in a long breath before smiling sharply, "You smell delicious. Why waste your body to a church when you can become part of _me_?" He moaned happily, long tendrils sprouting from his chest to start to wind around the priest's torso.

The priest gritted his teeth, "Let me go."

"Why should I?" the mirror's chest parted, yawning into a large cavernous hole.

The priest's eyes flickered with slight fear before he snapped, "You set me down right now!"

Startled, the water mirror reared, eyes darkening, and released his hold on the man. Snapping his jaws, he growled before crouching, eyeing the man with sudden, angry distaste, reminded of Red. "Fine. Go away. Go back to your safe church. Go rot in there."

Slowly, the priest turned and staggered back towards the door into the church. He was obviously shivering, and the mirror found pleasure when he saw him lean against a door post, hand over his stomach. Obviously, he had been masking nervous fear with angry bravery.

Turning back to the pond, he stared at it before licking his lips. Fishes. Fishes for Red. He wanted to bring fishes back for the girl. That would be sure to get him onto her good side for what he had planned for later today.

Snaking his way back to the pond, he dipped his legs back in, his feet soaking up the water before threading down to the depths of the pond, hunting for fish.

As the first fish fell prey to his tendrils, the water mirror glanced up at the cloudy sky and grinned. It looked as if it were going to rain.

What a welcome thing…

* * *

"I'm back! I'm back!" came a squeaking voice, accompanied by the sound of door opening, the door closing, and then little pitter-patters of feet scampering down the hall.

Red glanced towards the doorway as the water mirror, once again in his boyish form, bounced in. She blinked before sniffing, "What happened to you?"

Patting his rounded belly, the mirror nibbled at the tip of his finger before belching, slowly sitting down, "I brought back fish. Lots of fish." He laid back down onto his back, petting his stomach, and groaned. "Can I have a bucket to put them in?"

Red glanced him over with a curious eye before grabbing the bucket that had housed water before. Walking over, she crouched, set the bucket on the mirror's bloated belly, and then sat back, "But… haven't you already eaten them?"

"Mmm… Sort of…" Struggling to sit up, his little eyes tired, the water mirror yawned before taking the bucket, managing to pull himself up over it, and stilling.

Red watched in slight disgust as his stomach unthreaded itself down the middle. A silvery diamond body slipped out, thumped into the buckets.

Grumbling, the water mirror reached into himself and began to pull the fish out, "You better cook some of these for me, you know. I was the one who caught them. You can't let the big Wolf eat all of them." He paused, hand deep inside the cavity, and grimaced, "But this things mine." He pulled out a small red crawdad, raised it to his mouth, and clamped his little jaws around the tail. Holding it by his teeth, he resumed cleaning out the fish into the bucket.

Red felt her stomach curl in on itself, "How many… are there?"

"About twenty-nine fishies." The mirror growled around the crawdad.

"… _Twenty-nine_?" asked Red in disbelief. "I wouldn't even believe if someone told me there were _five_ fish in that pond."

The mirror glared at her, pushed out a last fish, and then pulled the split down his middle back together. "Well, there were _more_. Now…" Spitting out the crawdad as he pulled the bucket out from under his stomach, he glanced over the wet, silvery bodies before taking a fat, pinkish-gray fish, sniffing at it testily, and asking, "Where's my son?"

Red shrugged, "Peter woke up an hour ago or so and said he wanted to go on a walk. He took the memory eater in a basket. I said they could go from here to the Blue's dad's tavern and back, but that was it… Oh! And the little one said his first word!" She clapped her hands happily.

"What was it?"

"Sparrow. We've decided to call him that just because he had no name yet."

The mirror nibbled at the fish's tail, eyes flitting over Red in curiosity, "So they're both on a walk?"

"Yes."

"Well then, that means we're the only ones here, doesn't it?" The mirror's eyes darkened to their usual black, pinpricks of excited yellow sparking up in their centers.

Staring at his eyes, Red asked uneasily, "… So?"

"I have something to ask you." Said the mirror matter-of-factly, ignoring Red's question for the most part. His jaws twisted around the back fin of the pink fish in an almost nervous way.

"… What?"

"Two questions actually: Is the stove hot?"

"… Yes."

"And now…" The mirror leaned forward, eyes serious and excited as his little pink tongue ran across his lips. "You know how I lost my sister, right?"

"The fire-mirror…? Yes, I guess so." Red stared at his face, unsure of what direction the water mirror was heading in.

"Well…" Slowly, the mirror let the fish drop from his hands and cocked his head, eyes widening into pleading orbs, "we need a fire mirror."

Red saw his fingers begin to twitch, his eyes begin to glow brightly. Unnerved, she asked, "And you need help finding one?"

"No, I already know who I want."

"Who?"

The mirror smiled, "The only girl human with whom I'm good friends with." His eyes widened, and a hungry grin came onto his face. After a few moments of disbelieving silence from Red, he whispered, "And you wouldn't need to keep a stove… You'd always be warm… It has so many good things that come with it…" He sniffled slightly, eyes pleading.

Red's face grew red with restrained anger, "You- you what? You want me to be turned into a- a mirror? Are you crazy?"

Sticking out his lower lip in a pout, the mirror growled, "But you would make a great mirror. You're already so _feisty_." He shivered in delight. "And don't forget I've yet another mirror to find afterwards, since the King killed my little brother too."

Red stood and glared at the mirror, "No. I will not become a mirror." Throwing him an angry glance, she crossed her arms and turned.

Growing purple-blue in rage, the mirror wrenched up into his older form, black eyes flaring with red anger, "How dare you? Do you know what I'm _offering_ you?" Grabbing out with his claws, he snagged the hair on the back of her head and yanked her back to him.

Red struggled, feeling the water mirror's free hand travel around her waist before locking into place, enclosing her in a vice. Releasing her hair, the mirror thrummed with adoring happiness, digging his pale nose into her neck and rubbing the tip against her skin, "You'll be an excellent sister. Now that I've got my power back from my meal, turning you will be easy as pie." He let his nose travel up before snuffling into her hair. "And you'll learn to enjoy it. You don't have to live in the mirror world like other sister does. You can still live here. You'll just have to come in every so often to make sure I'm not flooding the regions to death." A hand travelled up to her throat, where the sharp claws at the ends of the fingers stroked her pulsing artery there.

Red squeaked, "What are you going to do? Let go! Let go!" She kicked out behind her.

The water mirror felt a soft pressure as her foot hit his leg, Giggling, he twirled around, Red flopping like a rag doll in his arms, and made his way for the stove, "I just need to boil down to a good age and then burn your physical body. I'll make it so it won't hurt that badly, my dear, but it might sting."

Red shrieked and flailed, "You're going to put me into the stove?"  
"After I get you to the stage I want!" laughed the mirror, nuzzling the top of her head lovingly. The hand that he had been caressing her throat with trailed down to her chest, flattening above the throbbing beat that was Red's heart. He waited for a moment before clawing his fingers and sliding the down deep into her flesh.

Red yelled as pain lanced up from her chest, but the scream throbbed off into soft sobbing as the pain quickly ebbed away, replaced by numbness. Behind her, the water mirror continued to rub his cheek and nose against the back of her head, his eyes brightening to a sunshine yellow. The skin just above where his fingers dug into Red's flesh was quickly turning into the same shade.

"You see, dear, what I have to do is make you our age." Said the water mirror hoarsely into her hair. "I'm taking your age away from you. Soon, you'll be six years old, just like me and sister. We have to be equal, you know."

Red felt her clothes loosen around her, her legs shrinking till they were invisible underneath the hem of her skirt. Her torso slid down until her nose was against the neckline of her search.

Suddenly, she tumbled down to the floor, losing herself in her clothes. A low, drawling purr rumbled out from above her as the water mirror lilted, "See? Not so bad, is it? Now, let me see what my new little sister will look like as a six-year-old." Kneeling, he grabbed her shirt's neckline and pulled it down until a ruddy little face presented itself, eyes wide and quivering.

Young Red sniffled and stared up at him before reaching up with little hands to cover a sneeze.

Instantly, the water mirror's eyes closed, and he threaded his fingers into her hair as he whispered, "Perfect… You're just beautiful, sister…" Slowly, his eyes opened, twirling pinwheels of gold 

and black. His fingers twitched their way down to Red's armpits, where he curled them up, lifted her up, and hugged the little girl to his chest, rubbing his nose against her hair once more.

Red hung in his arms, her eyes wide and confused. Everything was so confusing? Why was everything so big? 'Sister'…? This man had called her 'sister'?

A soft wail broke through her lips, and her little eyes screwed up as cold tears began to leak out.

Immediately, the water mirror patted her back, cooing softly as he swayed side to side, "No, no… It's okay, little sister… Shh…. It's a new feeling, but you'll get used to it… Shh… It's scary, I know…" He stroked her head before bouncing her up and down slightly.

Red's sobs ebbed away before watery innocent eyes travelled up to meet the water mirror's pinwheeling golden ones.

Licking her cheek and the salty tears on it, the water mirror whispered, "Now, now, this part may hurt, but it's only for a little while." He cast a long look at the stove before reaching down with one hand, grabbing the handle to the stove, and yanking it open. The instant flames presented themselves, he grinned widely. Everything was perfect. He had just completed making Red young enough. There was the stove, the bucket of fish for the little voracious mirror that would emerge once he had burned Red's physical body…

Kneeling, he peered into the stove before glancing down at the little girl who was nuzzling his shoulder in her temporary six-year-old innocence. He licked his lips before slowly pulling her away from his shoulder. "Now, now… it's time to become like big brother, dearie."

Red snuffled, rubbing her eyes, "Why…?"

"Because, my dear, we're going to make you into something special." He began to gently push her towards the flames.

Red's arms wrapped around his arm and tightened, "Noooo…"

"Come now, it'll only sting for a-"

The mirror paused as he heard a creak from down the hall. Glancing over his shoulder, he stared at the door before releasing Red, curling back over himself, and straightening, infuriated. Nobody was going to interrupt Red's burning once he had begun the proper ceremony! He wanted a mirror sister, not a pile of rotten ashes! Slinking to the door, he stood at the doorway for a few seconds before hissing and starting forward.

The instant he passed through the door into the hall, he heard a sharp jagged crack before he slumped violently to the side, his shoulder exploding into several hundred little drops. Growling, he twisted around to snap his jaws at the intruder.

Giggling hysterically, Hansel hefted his gun up again, bandages disarrayed around his head, "Who you? Who you? Who you?"

Hansel was disheveled, to say the least. The somewhat clean shirt and pants he had departed from the house with were now caked with mud, grass, and bits of leaves, which emitted a low, dark smell of musty earth. The bandages covering the left side of his face were coming unwrapped, showing larger and larger bits of hair and skin underneath the dirty cloth.

Staring at the man, the water mirror growled deep in his throat before pulling back, "You must be the snake's original."

Hansel staggered forward, looking more drunk than dangerous, "Snake? Snake? Do I know a snkae? Nah, nah… Just looking for my little Gretel. She wandered off somewhere I was sleeping, and I got a gun from my old house and I got her some candies…" He let his gun drop as he dug his left hand deep into his pocket, withdrawing a handful of paper-wrapped taffies a moment later. Grinning at his fist, he remarked, "She'll be happy…" His eye rolled up, showing sudden confusion, "Gretel? Gretel? Where are you?"

In the kitchen, Red sniffled in curiosity before hurrying over to the door, her too-large clothes dragging on the floor and causing her to stumble twice, and peering out, eyes wide.

Instantly, Hansel's eye locked on the round little face that presented itself. For a few seconds, he stared, mind obviously trying to click its way to some sort of conclusion about this little girl.

"Gretel?" Hansel cocked his head to the side, eye glinting as the pupil enlarged, "You're little again."

Clicking his tongue against his sharp teeth, the water mirror motioned to Red, "Shh, shh, come here, dearie. That man wants to hurt you." He couldn't have this man reminding Red of who she really was before he got the chance to burn her physical body and turn her into the fire mirror.

Hansel's eye stayed fixated on Red's face, the mirror's words not falling upon his ears. Holding out the hand in which he still clutched the candy, he purred, "Gretel, I got candy for you, see? And I got my gun too, because I want to protect you. And I got meat too, since you didn't bring money for meat." Dropping the candy on the floor, Hansel dug his hand back into his pocket and produced a small, half-rotten mouse. "We can cook it into a soup, see?" He paused, glanced down at his feet, and then dropped the mouse among the small pile of candies.

Red stared at the pile of candy before glancing back at the water mirror, eyes wide and questioning.

Seeing what she wanted, the mirror snapped irately, "You can eat _after_ we're done."

Red turned her face back towards Hansel before slinking hesitantly towards him and the little pile of paper-wrapped candies.

"Dearie!" snarled the water mirror.

At the sound of his angry voice, Hansel glanced sharply up, snapping back from his monotone dream-world. Baring his teeth, he hissed before raising his gun back up half-way to his shoulder, daring the mirror to repeat himself with the hatred that burned in his one eye.

The water mirror snapped his jaws at the huntsman, "You think that thing could stop me? I'll eat it along with your body!"

Hansel's snarl died off slowly, the aggressive frown slowly twitching up to its usual neutral grim line. He let the gun fall to his side before smiling softly and whispering, "Shh… She's eating…"

The water mirror glared witheringly at Red, who sat at Hansel's feet, her little fingers working on unrolling a candy from its paper. Working it free, she nibbled at the end, her eyes slowly transferring up to meet the mirror's grumpy glare. She paused before holding up a candy, offering him one.

The mirror growled before sighing, "Fine… you've given her the candies and the… 'meat' and showed her your new gun. Can you just… go away now?"

Hansel's sleepy eye turned slowly towards him, "Hm? Why?"

"We were in the middle of something important."

"Oh really? A game? I want to play too." Yawned Hansel, dropping his gun to the floor.

Annoyed, the mirror scratched at his chest, "No, not a game! It's just a-" He froze before slowly letting his eyes travel back to Hansel, a sudden hungry glint worming up in them.

He had come to the original's world for three things: To find a better home for him and his mirror, to be closer to his son, and to find replacements for the now-dead fire mirror and air mirror. He already had one selected, Red, since she was the only human girl whom he really liked…

But what said he couldn't use this annoying intruder as a mirror replacement too? He already was Red's _brother_, seemingly, and he knew his reflection as well…

Grinning at the idea, the water mirror straightened before saying in a lulling tone, "Of _course_ you can play. Just come into the kitchen now." He crooked a finger at Hansel, who's eye brightened out of its sleepy daze at the word 'play'.

Stepping over Red, Hansel followed the mirror into the kitchen, "What game are we playing?"

The mirror beamed at him, his smile ravenous, "It's called the burning game."

"Burning?" Hansel's hand travelled up to his bandages.

"Yes… But not that kind that hurt that much." Soothed the mirror, slinking closer, the fingers on his right hand sharpening into claws as he neared the man. He would need to make this one young again before throwing him into the stove and locking him in.

Hansel fingered a lock of blonde hair, suddenly unsure, "It…. Doesn't hurt, right?"

"No…" said the mirror, reaching out and placing his clawed hand on Hansel's chest, right above the huntsman's heart. When Hansel didn't react, he arched his claws, sliding them in deep.

Hansel stiffened, blinking once before stilling, staring at the water mirror as his body twitched, muscles and meat pulling back and disappearing, afternoon scruff disappearing from his cheeks and chin, his blonde hair lightening to an almost platinum yellow. The skin paled and the color of the ice-blue eye brightened.

After a few moments, the mirror slowly pulled his hand back, his hand still knuckle-deep in the chest of a sleepy-looking, young boy. Setting him down slowly before retracting his hand, the mirror glanced him over before cooing, "Hello, little brother."

Hansel's eye slowly travelled up, and he hesitantly wiggled his fingers in a small child's wave. As it had done with Red, the change back into a six-year-old had left him bewildered.

Reaching down to brush at the grungy bandages that still clung to Hansel's hair, the mirror said, "We'll just get rid of these before making you better, okay?"

Nodding uncertainly, Hansel reached up, wrapped his little fingers into the strips of cloth, and pulled down on them. They came off slowly, and the mirror instantly congratulated himself on his find.

Hansel's left eye socket was jagged, red, and black, empty after having taken a lead bullet from close range. When the mirror reached out, gently pushing his cheek in a silent order, Hansel turned his head, revealing a rather large livid scar on the back of his head, where the bullet had exited. The mirror could barely contain himself in his joy. Here was a damaged child, like him and his sister! As their 'mother', the witch who had first ensnared them and enslaved them to the mirrors, would have said, "The only child one can truly perfect."

Fingers twitching with excitement, the mirror gently scooped the little Hansel up, wrapping his arms around him, bouncing him, murmuring soft whispers of praise and promise. It was all part of the ceremony: pamper the child, let it feel trust and love in you.

Hansel rubbed his nose against the mirror's shoulder before speaking in a small, small voice, "Big brother?"

"Yes." The mirror stopped patting Hansel's back.

"I have a boo-boo on my head…"

"Well, would a _game_ make it better?" teased the mirror.

"A game?" the look of slight bewilderment wandered off of Hansel's face, only leaving unbridled excitement, "Yes! A game! Let's play! Play with me, big brother!"

"Mmhmm…" the mirror nuzzled Hansel's forehead before turning towards the stove and its open door. "It's called 'The Fireman'."

Hansel's lips formed a small 'o', "Fireman?"

"Because the person who stays in the fire for the longest time will be the best fireman." Said the water mirror in the most serious tone he could muster.

"… I can be a good fireman." Said little Hansel thoughtfully.

"You could. You just need to show me." The mirror knelt in front of the stove.

Hansel stared at the glowing red coals inside the stove, "… But that'll hurt."

"Good firemen will be protected." Whispered the mirror before pulling Hansel away from his chest, "Now… it's time to play."

Hansel continued to stare at the stove, eyes wide.

With a sudden, violent motion, the mirror shoved the boy to the stove's opening, grabbed his foot, tipped it up, shoved him in, and slammed the stove door shut with a victorious growl.

Instantly, hideous, heart-wrenching shrieks and sobs came from within, muffled and echoing within the hot iron stove, "I don't wanna be a fireman, big brother! I don't wanna! I'm scared!" The pitiful patter of little fists pounding against the iron stove door started, but almost immediately stopped as the bottom of the little fists got scorched by the searing heat of the metal walls. Hoarse wails began to worm up from the innards of the stove, and the water mirror scooted closer, eyes concentrating on the door.

The wails gave way to silence, before the small gasping noise of gagging and airless coughs echoed out. Even these faded away within a few moments, and the mirror began to shiver with excitement. He wanted to peep inside, just to see, but he had to wait until it was all done.

"Big brother?" A little weight rested on his shoulder.

Not bothering to look at Red, the mirror whispered, "I'm busy, dearie. Give me a few more seconds and then I'll play with you."

Red sniffled before toddling over to the chair, pulling herself up on it, and settling down to play with her fingers.

Pupils dilating, the mirror leaned forward, grabbed the stove door's handle, and eased it open gently. The dark smell of burnt meat slugged out, but he ignored it, fastening his eyes onto his prize instead.

The crumpled little body lay inside, skin charred. The blonde hair had curled up and blackened, the skin cracking to reveal dark red underneath. Slowly, tenderly, the mirror reached inside, gently took up the stiff body, and pulled it to his lap, taking care not to clutch to hard and crumple it to ash. The 

instant it lay safe across his crossed legs, he leaned forward, fingers tracing the small chest before resting above his heart. After a slight pause, the mirror closed his eyes, letting a small needle of water extend from the palm of his hand, piercing the skin, and spearing the still, charred heart.

Instantly, Hansel's 'good' eye opened, the white a dark red-yellow now after the burning, accenting the still-blue of the color around the pupil, and he began to gasp, shrill long breaths that whistled through a burnt esophagus. Struggling up, he croaked a few meaningless sounds before erupting into sobs.

A deep sense of satisfaction worming up inside of him, the mirror stumbled up, hurried over to the bucket of fish, and set the wailing and burnt Hansel next to it. Stepping back, he knelt, excited to watch.

For the first two minutes, Hansel just cried, eyes closed, black tears streaming out, and long, loud sobs throbbing through the kitchen air. His fists lay in his lap, the knuckles cracking as he clutched them tighter and tighter, screaming at the discomfort he felt.

However, slowly, Hansel seemed to notice that there was fish. His wails slowly dwindled to sniffles, and then to curious squeaks as he forced himself to his knees. Clutching the side of the bucket, he peered in and froze, eye widening.

The water mirror grunted happily. For the first hour or so after becoming a mirror, he had been uncomfortable too. Having been drowned, he hadn't been able to cry properly, rather vomiting water up between racking hiccups, but he was sure that the new little mirror's mood would brighten once he had a good thing to eat. It was one of the things that was constant whenever a new mirror was made: the hunger always came with it.

Hansel poked at a fish, snuffling, before picking it up hesitantly, dragging it out of the bucket with a somewhat hungry 'Ewwww…'. He plopped it on the ground, stared at it, and then glanced up at the water mirror. He seemed to be already drifting back into a fit of monotone dreariness.

The water mirror met the gaze and mouthed, "Why don't you try biting it?"

Hansel glanced back down at the fish before raising the back fin to his mouth and nibbling at the scales, his little eyes thoughtful as he tried to like the taste. Then, with a somewhat lopsided grin, he bit heartily into the fin, not seeming to notice that all he was getting was membrane and bone.

The water mirror chuckled before growing distracted by Red, who sat pouting on the chair as she watched them. He bit his lip, unsure. He really wanted to play with his newly-changed little brother for a bit before turning her…

"Dearie, you want to come sit with us?" The water mirror patted the ground beside him.

Instantly, Red sat on the floor besides him, little eyes wide as she watched little Hansel devour the fish eagerly. She cocked her head as the boy slurped up the last bite, licking his peeled lips, and then sucking the fish blood and scales from his cracked fingertips, bright yet dull eye roving back towards the bucket with questioning happiness. However, they stilled before sliding over to Red and affixing upon her. After a few moments, he crawled over to her, whimpering, and, laying down on the tile of the kitchen, rested his head on her lap as he sniffled, "I'm tired, baby sister. So tired…"

Red watched the top of the pale blonde, brown, and burnt black head before toying with some of the strands of hair silently.

The water mirror quivered in quiet happiness. So perfect with each other, these two. Once Red was turned, he would feed them the rest of the fish before taking them into the town in search of a 

mirror shop. They would need to choose their own mirrors in order to feel comfortable with it once they made it into a home.

Small sniffles interrupted his happy thoughts, and he glanced over to watch the cracked Hansel sit up, hands creeping down to press flat against his tummy. From the look on his face, he was obviously feeling something inside of him.

Reaching over, the water mirror gently plucked Hansel's hands off of his stomach, lifted the burnt, over-large shirt, and watched intently as the black skin on the little boy's stomach start to peel back, revealing a pulsing, red-and-orange light, very much like the ones that coal gave off. He pushed a finger against the black skin, only to withdraw it at once; Hansel had begun to burn up in an attempt to digest his first meal of fish. However, at the rate he was warming up, it would take forever for him to rid of the fish in his stomach.

Reaching up to pet Hansel's head, the water mirror purred, "Want a spark?"

Hansel stared up at him before nodding hesitantly.

Pushing a hand against Hansel's chest, the water mirror let a sharp needle trickle down, worming beneath a crack in the seared flesh and digging down. Circling around the burnt heart, it began to manually make it beat faster, pulsing in and out.

Hansel hiccupped before opening his mouth and belching a small cloud of sparks.

The water mirror chuckled before increasing the pulse just a bit more.

Hansel stilled, his body beginning to glow slightly as the cinders underneath the cracked skin burnt brighter and brighter.

The water mirror withdrew his hand quickly and scooted back. He didn't want any nasty surprises burning up his hands and arms.

Quivering, Hansel scratched at some of the glowing embers that shone though the cracks of the skin on his arm before freezing, his face screwing up, and then bringing up his hands to cover his nose as he sneezed. A flared jet of bright red flame plumed out of his back, making a mane that went from the back of his neck all the way down to his bottom. Hansel's eyes grew wide, and he twisted about to see this new development before glancing back down between himself and the bucket of fish.

His shirt began to crackle as four thick and wavering tendrils of sparks wormed out from underneath it, slithering over to the bucket, grabbing the handle, and pulling it closer before viciously jamming it up against Hansel's body. From the glazed look of ecstasy that crossed the boy's face, he was engorging himself by absorbing the fish deep into the fiery pit that was now his stomach.

The water mirror leaned over, cooing his loving encouragement, when he heard the front door open.

"Marie! I'm home!" came an excited and happy voice, along with the snuffling burbles of a baby wanting to be let down. Little pitter-pats of feet came tramping down the hall, "Me and Sparrow went down to the street and there was a puppet guy there and he gave us some things called croissants with chocolate inside of them and-" The voice trailed off as Peter came to the doorway, the eyes that had been wide with happiness now widening even further with sudden surprise.

In his arms, the memory eater writhed miserably, a little piece of fluffy bread stuck in its little fist still. "Spppppa. Spa-row." He snapped his teeth before shrieking the word again, tail curling up to touch its stomach.

The water mirror's face split into a feeble grin, "Oh… hello... Come back early, I guess…?"

* * *

**OOC: Bahhhh! Sorry for taking so long to update! I guess my summer job has been eating up all the time, with all this salmonella outbreak and stuff. (I work in a Food Safety Lab as an intern)... So... Yes. This shall be continued. Once I'm back at school and no longer worrying over tomatoes and jalapenos, I should have more time to write.**


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